


The Long Pull

by Dtales



Series: The Long Pull [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Come Eating, Exhibitionism, F/F, Futanari, Large Cock, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Public Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dtales/pseuds/Dtales
Summary: Seattle. The coffee capital of the world. To stand out here takes a special kind of coffee. The Long Pull covers a single morning shift at Seattle's most esoteric coffee shop: The Futa Brew.





	The Long Pull

Melanie closed her umbrella as she stepped into the back entrance of the coffee shop where she worked, placing it into the narrow can near the door where someone who worked there insisted it was a trash can and kept spitting their gum into it. Judging from the pink wad she extracted from the can last time, it was a coworker who still chewed bubblegum. She wanted to write “this is not a trash can!” on a piece of paper and tape it to the can, but then she’d be the assistant manager who wrote passive-aggressive notes to her co-workers and subordinates.

Melanie hoped she wasn’t already at that state of her career at the tender age of twenty-two. Her mom warned her to finish high school and get a degree so she wouldn’t get stuck at the coffee shop forever. Her beautifully framed degree now sat in her closet, where it would stay until she got out of the rut she’d dug herself with thousands of dollars of student loan debt.

She flipped on the lights in the back room, satisfied that it looked like it had been cleaned. Melanie patted the breast pocket to make sure she hadn’t left her pencil at home. She spun around to the cork board to look at the schedule and the roles assigned for her today.

And Melanie groaned and rested her forehead against the cork.

There was a knock at the door, shaking Melanie briefly from her disappointment. She went to the back door and opened it. It was Vanna, with her dark hair and trench coat over the uniform polo and her own skirt.

“Hey, Melanie.” Said Vanna, stepping inside and lowering the fashion magazine she’d used to shield her from the rain. Melanie had always thought Vanna was prettier than any of the dead-eyed, doll-like women they put on the cover of those things.

Vanna appropriately threw the water-damaged magazine into the trash. “You... get wet?” She asked, pointing with a painted nail. “Your hair...”

“No, I walked here.” Melanie shrugged. “And a car drove by, so I held the umbrella sideways so he wouldn’t splash me, but I was under some corner of a building where the water was just pouring off, so I got soaked.” She shivered a bit. “I would dry it off with the paper towels, but last time, I had lint in my hair all day.”

“I didn’t know you walked here.” Vanna said, taking her trench coat off and folding it over her elbow. “Where do you live? I could... pick you up.”

“Thank you, Vanna, but it’s not that far.” Melanie said. “Maybe the next time it rains, or in the winter.”

“Who do we work with today?” Vanna looked at the schedule. “Zelda, Connie... that’s a good team.”

“Connie will probably be a few minutes late.” Melanie said. “But whatever. She’s on Connie Time. If she’s always late by the same amount, we can manage. If she starts showing up even later, that could be a problem.”

“Did Annie... lose her job finally?”

“No, I think she got suspended.” Melanie said. “Haven’t talked to Patti yet. But it says Annie’s working Saturday.”

“La vache!” Vanna growled. “So am I!”

“Maybe she just won’t show up.”

A knock at the door, followed by a holler through it. “Let us in!”

Melanie opened the door to be rushed past by Connie and Zelda. Connie was a tall and athletic woman with smooth caramel colored skin and short, straight black hair styled into a windblown hairdo. Zelda was a petite Japanese-American, almost a foot shorter than Connie, with her hair tied into a ponytail with a blue ribbon tied into a bow.

“Hey, Mel.” Connie said. “What’d we get today?” She went directly for the cork board to see what she’d been assigned for that day. Connie threw her fists into the air, narrowly missing Zelda’s face. “Coconut!” She cheered. “I get the easy one.”

“Ughhh...” Vanna made her best ‘echh’ sound. “I got French vanilla again! I swear, Patti is prejudiced against me or something.”

“I got Hazelnut, so I guess that means you’re Caramel today, Melanie?” Said Zelda. “Unless we’re doing something weird.”

“Yeah...” Melanie said. “If she wants me doing Caramel, I hope she’s fine doing everything in the office today, because... every time I do Caramel, I’m out of the office for like four hours at a time.”

The quartet of women walked through the back room and into the dressing room, Melanie retrieving a shrink-wrapped package before leaving the back room. The package contained six small cone-shaped objects with a slim neck below the wider part of the cone, leading to a wide flat flange of a much brighter color. The six objects were all slightly different colors, but were all dark and shiny like fancy glass.

The numbers on most of the lockers had worn off or been pried off by vandal employees long ago. But the ladies all knew which lockers they used by their locks. They took off their coats, wearing the same dark pink polo with the all-important breast pocket. When inside, Vanna hung her coat on a hangar, and Melanie balled her damp sweatshirt up and tossed it into her locker. Even if it was still wet when she took it out, she just couldn’t be bothered to hang it properly.

Then, they all started to strip. All the women took off their skirts, or in the case of Connie, her jean shorts.

“Ooh, those panties are cute.” Connie pointed to Zelda’s little baby blue underwear. “Where’d you get them?”

Zelda turned towards Connie, slipped both thumbs into the thin hip straps and pulled them down to her ankles, unveiling her thick cock, hanging to her knees. For a shorty like Zelda, that wasn’t much of an achievement, but it was still a pleasing sight.

“Target.” Zelda answered, the hand holding the garment coming to her hip, the slight sway in her hip gave her schlong a small wag.

“They sell futa undies at Target now?” Melanie asked, slipping her own panties off and unveiling her own mighty prick. “I need to go back there. Why can’t Victoria’s Secret get with the times?”

Connie and Vanna has stripped off their underwear, too. They too were hanging free, Vanna hanging lowest of all. Melanie had always assumed it was all that French food.

The four of them hung their panties by a leg hole on a small coat rack screwed into the drywall of the locker room. Melanie opened a laundry bag held in one of the lockers and pulled out the uniform skirts.

“Coconut...” She said, handing Connie her skirt for the day. She connected it behind her back. Someone who hadn’t been to this coffee shop before might wonder why the clientele all wore such short skirts, especially when one considers it doesn’t even come close to covering the barista’s schlongs. The ‘skirt’ was basically a ribbon of pleated fabric about four inches wide, too wide to be a belt, but too short to be a proper skirt. The garment was a dark brown with long strips of white over it like sprinkles, indicating her assigned flavor.

Melanie kept the Caramel color for herself and handed Zelda the Hazelnut skirt, which was tinted almost orange to make it distinct from the other shades of brown. Vanna got her French Vanilla skirt, an off-white that bordered on yellow.

Hooking the skirt in front of her, Melanie then rotated the skirt so the clasp was behind her. She wasn’t quite dexterous to do it behind her back. Melanie took hold of the corner of the plastic package and ripped the bag open, letting air into the six separated compartments in the bag. She could tell them apart by the faint difference in color, so she handed a brown one to Connie.

The object had a faintly tacky feel, like a moistened lollipop. Holding these things really was gross, so Connie wanted to get it out of her hands as soon as possible. Thus, she did what she always did. She placed the pointed end between her butt cheeks and slid the device up her ass until only the flange was visible, like a pea thrown into cleavage by a flirty and immature diner.

The effect of the device was felt immediately, as a tingle danced through Connie’s lower body, feeling the device release its energy. Connie always thought it felt like Vap-O-Rub, waking up the internal tissues and feeling the osmotic forces deliver some uncertain energy or chemicals into her prostate.

Another effect was obvious to them all, as Connie’s hanging cock grew stiff in a matter of seconds, twitching with every heartbeat. Anyone questioning why the skirts were so short would now have their answer.

Melanie handed one to Vanna, an unappetizing gray one. Luckily, it wasn’t meant to be eaten, and Vanna stuffed it up her ass with relative ease.

“Are they bigger than normal?” Connie asked Vanna. “It feels bigger.”

Vanna held her eyes closed as she adjusted to the rush the device was delivering into her system. Her  
cock hardened and her scrotum tightened, and Vanna stretched the skin out gently with her hand.

Melanie faltered as she reached for Zelda’s, trying not to stare at Vanna. Melanie grew hard slowly, and without the aid of anything in her bum. It was a little embarrassing. She handed Zelda her device, a tan-brown color, and she put it where it belonged. The tingling sensation hit her, and Zelda grew erect very quickly.

“My turn.” Melanie took out the device she had been assigned today and slid it into her rear. She might not be able to hook the skirt behind her back, but this she could do by herself. She felt the tingly rush she was familiar with from the implant, her heartbeat quickening and her mind waking... and of course, her cock throbbing like a stubbed toe.

“I swear...” Vanna looked herself in the mirror, assessing if her makeup had been disrupted by the rain. “Why do I always get stuck with French Vanilla just because I’m French? I think Patti’s racist or something.”

“Maybe you should talk to her or something.” Said Zelda, looking out the door.

“I will, once I see her.” Vanna turned away from the mirror and saw Patti standing in the doorway. Patti was in her thirties, with gentle bags under her eyes that never seemed to go away, no matter how much coffee she drank. She wore a black blazer with a red top that stretched over her curvy figure and matching skirt.

“Hello, Vanna, everyone.” Said Patti.

“Oh, there you are.” Vanna said, brushing her hair over her shoulder with her hand. She was not intimidated. “Patti, why do I always get stuck with French Vanilla? It’s like, every time!”

“It’s not every time, I assure you.” Patti said, folding her hands together. “I try to rotate who has what flavor, but not everyone can work the same days. It’s a difficult balancing act, but I actually have a set of shot glasses at my desk. I put a colored marble in each glass for what flavor you all are assigned for the day. I don’t repeat one unless I empty the glass, and I try not to do that unless there are at least three in there. It’s sort of like making the match-ups for a basketball bracket, and I know how much you love basketball.”

“It’s true.” Vanna nodded.

“I’ve also looked at sales,” Patti continued. “And when you’re French Vanilla, we sell twice as much French Vanilla. The customers love getting French Vanilla from you because of your accent... and I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re the only one of us longer than twelve inches.”

Vanna chuckled as Patti stroked her finger on the underside of Vanna’s cock as casually as one would touch the shoulder of a coworker.

“I swear I don’t assign you to French Vanilla more than the others on purpose. I try to keep you all moving around so you don’t do the same thing too often.” Patti explained. “I know French Vanilla is harder on you than it is on the others because of the novelty, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to use you less, either. You understand, right?”

“I do.” Vanna said. “I just hate the stereotyping.”

“If I made you wear a beret and a striped shirt, then you could complain about that. But that also might increase sales.” Patti said. The others chuckled lightly. She looked around at her staff, ready to serve with their huge hardons. “Melanie?”

Melanie snapped to attention, clenching a bit, feeling her hole clamp eagerly at the implant inside her. She felt it tingle like a cough drop between her cheeks.

“If I may...” Patti dropped her skirt, wearing no panties underneath at all.

“Patti?” Melanie looked down at Patti’s nude body, the same as all theirs, her cock dangling limply from her body.

“I may was well tell you all. Annie is gone.” Patti said. It wasn’t clear if she’d been fired or quit. The euphemism was almost certainly deliberate. “We’re expecting a pretty busy day, and I wanted to bring her in, but... well, she just wasn’t a fit. So...” Patti tipped up her glasses to inspect the devices closer. “What’s left?”

“Creme de menthe and raspberry.” Melanie identified them by their colors immediately, pointing to them in turn.

“Mint it is, then.” Patti took out the penultimate implant. Annie wasn’t a good fit, but the implant definitely was, sliding effortlessly into Patti. Her cock slowly woke, reaching its full height. She even took the matching green skirt and put it on.

“If you need mint, just call me down from the office. I’ll be right down unless I’m on the phone. OK?”

The group mumbled in acceptance.

“Oh! We’re also supposed to have a new pastry chef coming in for an interview.”

“Are we going to start selling pastries again?” Zelda said.

“We might, if she kills the interview.” Patti explained.

“I hope we don’t.” Zelda pouted. “To me, them buying a pastry with coffee is just saying that we’re not sweet enough on our own.”

“I understand.” Patti noted. “But if they can’t buy something here, they’re going to buy it at Starbucks or Tim Horton’s. We put them back in the door at a competitor, and they might decide to just stick with regular coffee.”

Zelda didn’t respond, looking off, evidently unhappy.

“I don’t think we’re bringing back breakfast sandwiches.” Patti said. “But scones... why not?”

Patti looked to the group. “We ready?”

Melanie looked to the quintet of erections, almost pointing inwards towards each other like the logs in a campfire. They certainly were ready. Patti stepped out from the group, putting her hand in the middle of them. The others put their hands atop hers.

“C8-H10-N4-02!” They said, breaking the hands apart at the end.

Ironically, they said it with little energy.

As they walked out to the front of the shop, not remotely when Patti was out of earshot, Vanna said suddenly, “I’m not even that kind of French! I’m from Quebec!”

“Well, my parents are from Lebanon and Trinidad and Tobago,” Connie said, beginning her ritual of dismounting all the chairs from the tables and returning them to the floor. “and I STILL get called ‘African-American,’ so... yeah, those countries are both totally in Africa.”

“I didn’t realize you had three parents, Connie.” Said Zelda, counting the change in her register.

“Shut up.” Connie smiled at her.

Within five minutes, they were ready to open. The first customer walked in at one minute before 6:00 AM. A man in jogging clothes walked up to the first counter, Zelda standing behind it, her erection standing above the lowered counters.

“Welcome to the Futa Brew.” Zelda said with an energetic smile. “What can we make for you today?”

\---

The Futa Brew coffee shop had much in common with any other coffee shop. The busiest hours were from however early that shop could stand to open until some time after nine-thirty, and from roughly ten-past-noon until one. It wasn’t that there wouldn’t be a stream of people wandering in at all times, but those peak times were when anyone with a normal job wanted coffee either before they got to work or on their lunch break. It formed a customer bottleneck that the crew of The Futa Brew were well-equipped to handle, even if there were only four of them today.

There were two kinds of brand-new customers that would enter the Futa Brew for the first time. At ten minutes before eight, the first kind stepped in. This was a man of about twenty-four, skateboard under his arm and white earbuds in his ears, but no helmet or safety gear to be found. He was a man who had been told by friends about The Futa Brew, the legendary cafe staffed entirely by beautiful futa babes.

He entered, expecting to find some sort of organized (or disorganized!) orgy going on.

What he got was a lot of excited shouting. But not the kind he was hoping for.

“Zelda, what’s taking so long?!” Yelled Melanie.

“This thing’s a piece of junk, that’s what!” Zelda pounded the stainless steel facade of the espresso machine.

“Calm yourself.” Came a stern voice from above.

“I’m totally calm!” Zelda shouted. “That’s why I didn’t say the F-word!”

“Who didn’t clean the grinder?” Connie yelled, pounding some element of the grinder on the side of a trash can to shake out the coffee grounds. “Who was on last night?”

“Where’s that Vanilla?” Melanie asked while tapping her screen.

“I’ve got it! ... Eckander?!” Vanna tried to read the name on the coffee she’d just made.

“It’s ‘Xander.’” Melanie corrected.

“Why you make me read these?” Vanna said rapidly, almost incomprehensible. “You Americans and your... names with X’s in them for no reason.”

Xander took his coffee. “It’s actually ‘Zander’ with a Z.”

“Blame one of them.” Vanna said. “I didn’t write it. Who’s next?”

“This counterfeit pen is dry!” Cried Melanie. “Do you have another one, Patti? I need to check this hundred.”

“No, I don’t.” Called the voice from above. “Just accept it. I’ll check it later.”

“I just made it this morning.” The man chuckled.

Melanie didn’t even look up to acknowledge the joke, if that could be called a joke. “Who has my keys? I need to get into the drop.”

“They’re over there!”

“Where did you point? I didn’t see.”

“Melanie, can you do manual entry on a credit card?”

“We don’t do manual!”

“Since when?”

“Since the office said not to!”

“But the guy’s chip doesn’t work!”

“Try sliding it! Sometimes after it fails three times, it’ll take the slide!”

And so on and so on.

The customer could barely contain his disappointment. Sure, the staff were beautiful futas, just as promised. Their cocks were present and immense, standing erect from their skirts like oil derricks. Maybe they had boners from all the caffeine.

But... it was just a coffee shop with half-naked futa employees. No special drinks evident on the menu, no double entendres, and there seemed to be a real hazard of burning their beautiful privates on some hot surface.

Screw this, he thought, turning around and leaving. He hadn’t been this disappointed in a food service business establishment since he went to the Roadkill Cafe and found they just served burgers and fries. His friends must have fallen for some marketing gimmick.

What was he thinking? Of course the futa don’t jizz into the coffee.

The moment after he left, a customer tried to get the barista’s attention. “Where are your newspapers?”

Melanie looked up. “Did someone steal them ALREADY? Dammit!”

“Newsburgler strikes again.” Zelda said.

“If I ever find him... I’ll...” Melanie growled, shaking her head.

“You’ll what?” Zelda grinned. “You’ll jizz in his coffee?”

“No.” She said. “I’ll find that box of non-dairy creamer in the back.”

“You wouldn’t!”

\---

Someone who knew what they were apparently getting into at the Futa Brew, and visiting for the first time, they might be disappointed in how much it looks and operates like an ordinary coffee shop. If you happened to leave in a window of less than two minutes, or if the crowd surrounding the counter was thick enough, you might not even see the baristas making a coffee.

There were two kinds of brand-new customers that would enter the Futa Brew for the first time. Today, the second kind came in at the perfect time to have a more illuminating experience.

A thin man with scraggly hair, an unimpressive goatee and black T-shirt walked in to the cafe, looking about the place with a certain baffled curiosity. Among the staff, they called that “The Look.” It was like watching a kid enter a giant circus tent for the first time, or someone entering the Sydney Opera House and finally reconciling how big it really was.

Unlike those places, where someone might be looking up at the ceiling, those with The Look were always looking directly at the barista’s crotches, disbelieving what they were seeing. Their fascination was closer to watching robotic arms effortlessly make a car out of strips of aluminum. Maybe they’d heard of futa, maybe they’d even met some or were friends with a few, but surely never one with their lower half almost completely disrobed, and so deeply engorged, with a bead of clear precum sitting on the tip like a crystal ball on a huge plinth.

Even on their second visit, a patron would either look, not look, or glance. Only those visiting The Futa Brew for the first time would stare with such unbroken goggle-eyed fascination, standing out of line, unsure if what they were seeing was real.

Without a word, Melanie got Zelda’s attention and gestured at the man with nothing more than a glance. Zelda recognized The Look immediately. She went to the back counter, where the old iPod that controlled the music was stationed, and changed the song with a few taps.

The music cut out briefly, and the speakers started playing The Look by Roxette. Zelda had set the filename of the MP3 to begin with a huge series of A’s, so it would sort to the top of any playlist, and would be easy to find for just this occasion. It was an in-joke among employees, known enough to the staff that even Patti set down her work for a moment to see who the new customer was from her second-story window overlooking the cafe.

Zelda zipped out from behind the counter and marched up to the man, stepping in time with the percussion of the Swedish pop rock hit. The way her cock wobbled as she walked finally caused the man to look away.

“Hi!” Zelda smiled wide. “Welcome to The Futa Brew! Is this your first time here?”

The man’s head looked around, then back to the huge cock of this petite Asian woman, as big as her arm. Possibly bigger. “I just came in looking for a bathroom.” He looked about fruitlessly.

“There over there if you need them.” Zelda pointed behind the man, to the hall that lead to the entrances to the cafe’s three lavatories: men’s, women’s and futa, naturally. “What’s your name?”

“Thomas.” The man said.

“Hello, Thomas. I’m Zelda.” She pointed to her nametag, knowing he hadn’t and wouldn’t look at it. “Welcome to the Futa Brew! I’m here to answer any questions you have. To answer your first question... yes, it’s real.”

Thomas stared at her, eyes darting between eye contact and staring goggle-eyed at her unclothed erection. She continued. “Well, so are these...” She held her petite breasts in her hands for a moment. “But they’re not nearly as impressive as... well, you can see.”

Thomas swallowed.

Zelda pulled out a pink plastic school ruler with the logo for the Futa Brew on it. To Thomas, it looked like she pulled it out of Hammerspace. “Go ahead.” She handed the ruler to him with both hands, bowing as she did.

He took the ruler, and Zelda stood up straight again. Thomas’ trembling hand brought the ruler vertically to one side of Zelda’s cock. He leaned in to read the raised numbers. The tip was right at the eleven.

“Jesus.” Thomas said softly, stepping back. He held the ruler out to Zelda.

“Oh, you can keep that.” Zelda said. “Unless it bothers you that it touched me, but... that never seems to be the case.”

Thomas put the ruler in his pocket.

“So!” Zelda continued, still brimming with enthusiasm. “Do you like coffee?”

“I drink coffee, but I don’t really like it.” Thomas said. “I just need the caffeine to stay alert.”

“I know what you mean.” Zelda said. “I wake up at 4:30 in the morning just to get here. As my dad used to say,” Zelda imitated her father’s thick Japanese accent. “That so early, it late!” She laughed.

Thomas smiled nervously, not even sure he should be laughing at that.

“Now, I happen to love coffee.” Zelda continued. “But like a lot of people, I still can’t drink it black. It’s just too strong. So what we do at the Futa Brew is take our already excellent coffee and mellow it with the world’s best and most natural sweetener.”

Thomas blinked. “Agave?”

“Guess again.” Zelda smiled.

Eyes finally drifting away from Zelda, Thomas looked behind the counter and watched the assembly line in action. A blonde futa wrote an order on a large paper cup with a pencil. She handed it behind her to a black girl standing in front of a coffee machine. He wasn’t sure if she was a futa, too. The black girl handed it to a white brunette to her left. The brunette woman was hidden behind some feature of the counter, too, but she lowered the cup and her other arm started shaking in a way that sure looked like masturbation.

“No way.” Thomas said.

“Yes way.” Zelda said confidently.

“Is this legal?”

“I’ve worked here for three years, and we haven’t had any trouble at all.” Zelda said. “It’s not like it’s a secret. That’s why we have the low counter so you can watch your coffee get made. It’s like Subway.”

That comparison hadn’t jumped to Thomas’ mind. The thing he envisioned happening in the back rooms of crummy restaurants where wrathful staff took their frustrations with bad customers out on their food... was happening front and center here. There was a market for coffee mixed with futa come. There was a line to buy this particular coffee.

“That’s the first rule of the Futa Brew.” Zelda explained. “Watch as much as you want.”

“So... are you all...”

“We are all futa.” Zelda answered. “And we’re all very good at our job. Would you like to try some?”

“I don’t think I’d like coffee flavored with jizz, thanks. I’m... straight.”

“Now, you don’t think it’d be this popular if the only flavor we had was jizz, do you?” A pause. “We’re not just your baristas, and we’re not just the cream for your coffee, we’re also your flavor syrups.”

Zelda turned in place, pulling her butt cheeks apart momentarily and revealing the orange-colored flange of the device still stowed in her ass. “These special implants means that each of us will dispense a different flavor! Today, I’m Hazelnut.”

“How the hell does that work?” Thomas sneered, confused.

“I don’t know EXACTLY how it works, like chemically.” Zelda admitted freely. “But we get assigned our implants in the morning, I shove it in my butt, it stimulates my prostate and keeps me hard and ready, and it flavors my ejaculate.”

Thomas stared her in the eye for once, instead of in the cock. “That didn’t explain anything.”

“No, it really didn’t.” Zelda would have to revise this part of the spiel.

A few seconds of silence between them. The song and the general clamor of the cafe continued.

“You don’t believe me.” Zelda said. “Take a seat.”

He sat on a couch, and Zelda brought a chair across from him. “Do you like Hazelnut?”

“I do.” Thomas nodded.

“Great.” Zelda put her fingers around her cock and started rubbing. Thomas looked away, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling fans that weren’t helping him wick away the nervous sweat he felt growing on his forehead and shoulders.

“You can watch, Thomas.” Zelda continued masturbating shamelessly. “Remember the first rule.”

He kept his eyes averted.

“The second rule is that we accept requests. You can touch me, or any one of us, so long as you ask permission from the barista first. She might say no, but we’re very permissive here.” Zelda purred. “Would you like to touch it?”

Thomas didn’t look back.

“What if I said I couldn’t come without you watching?” Zelda begged. “I’ve done this so long, if someone’s not watching, I just can’t climax. Sure, other people are staring at me, but I want it to be you. Will you please look at me?”

Thomas finally looked back. Zelda’s hand picked up speed as she stared unblinking at him for about twelve more seconds until she grabbed her empty cup.

At the exact moment of climax, The Look reached its famous two-and-a-half second rest. Zelda groaned and unburdened herself of wave after wave of sticky white come, and all the customer’s heads turned to watch.

And all the other baristas jumped in place at the exact moment and slammed their feet down at the moment the music resumed. Zelda couldn’t jump, but did stomp one foot.

Zelda had lied when she said she needed to have someone watch her to be able to come. But... that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the attention. Yes, watch me, she thought, head swimming in perverted thoughts. Watch this huge dick fill this cup with sweet spunk and decide to change your order to “whatever he’s having.” Line me up to make cup after cup of Hazelnut goodness. She could go a thousand times in a row and not run of of come, she thought. I am the endless fountain of come.

The man broke his stare only to see how many seconds had actually gone by. He privately wished he could nut for that long.

Zelda had finally reached the end of her orgasm, releasing a long breath and letting a gentle line of white come crawl down her cock. She pulled the cup away and held it out to Thomas. He looked at the warm brew uncertainly, giving it a sniff.

Almost everyone knows that come has a unique and strong scent. This didn’t really smell like come, except for that it was a smell equal in potency. It smelled strongly of hazelnuts, almost like hazelnut perfume.

Zelda kept smiling, pushing the cup closer. Thomas recoiled a bit. Zelda pulled the cup in and took a sip. She moaned and licked her lips.

“I forgot how good the Hazelnut was.” Zelda said.

“You’re still hard.” Thomas said.

“You’re still sexy.” Zelda pointed.

“You don’t have to patronize me.” Thomas muttered shyly.

“Of course I do. You’re a customer.” Zelda stood. “Could you hold this? I’m going to get the rest of the stuff to finish this.” She handed the cup back to Thomas and ran back behind the counter.

When Thomas woke this morning, he didn’t think he’d be sat in a coffee shop, holding a futa woman’s sweet-smelling jism in a plastic cup. The cup felt really warm, much hotter than body temperature. If he’d been handed a coffee this hot, he’d ask for a few ice cubes like a total wimp. He hoped he didn’t spill this in his lap...

Thomas looked around, wondering if he was being watched by someone. He sniffed the cup again. It sure smelled nice...

Zelda returned. “Here we go.” She had two shots of espresso that she poured into the cup before taking it back. She attached a cover to the cup and rocked it vigorously between both hands, a napkin covering the X-shaped straw vent.

Somehow, Thomas stopped watching Zelda’s cock wobble about as she shook the drink, and watched those two small shots of espresso swirl around and darken the white base to a light beige.

Zelda stopped her shaking and sighed. “Believe it or not, that’s the most exhausting part of my job.” She handed the cup back to him. “Here we go. One Hazelnut latte.” She unwrapped the straw and poked it in the lid, keeping a little bit of the paper at the top of the straw.

Thomas looked at it. It did look like a perfectly acceptable latte, though he’d never seen one in a clear plastic container. The truth was that every other customer got their lattes served in opaque paper cups. This clear cup was for iced coffee... or for new customers so they could watch their come spill and fill the cup.

“So... there’s no milk in this at all?”

“No milk, no sugar. Just my natural sweetness.”

Thomas hesitated. “How much do I owe you?”

“This one’s on the house.” Zelda said. “If you like it, tell your friends. If you don’t, tell them we’re a bunch of weird perverts. Well, that part’s true whether you like the drink or not.”

Thomas still didn’t quite have the nerve to take a sip. “Let me try it.” Zelda pulled his arm out with both hands and put her lips on the straw. He saw the dark line of coffee advance up the straw, and she filled her mouth with latte.

Zelda swallowed. “Oh, man, that’s good.” She smacked her lips. “I’m not even pretending.”

Thomas felt like was being inched closer and closer to the edge of a diving board, so high up that he couldn’t even see if the pool was filled.

“Is it because I used the straw?” Zelda inquired. “I’ve got another straw here, but...” She jumped up and stole a quick kiss from his lips. “That’s way easier.”

Thomas covered his mouth with his hand. His cheeks grew red.

Zelda felt a steep drop in her stomach. Maybe that was over the line. “Was that too far?” She asked.

“No, no.” Thomas said. “I’m fine. You’re just... really sexy.”

“Aw.” She smiled as if nobody had ever told her that before. “Anyway, I should get back there and help them, but it was nice meeting you, Thomas. I really hope you’ll be back, but if you don’t like our coffee, don’t worry about it. Just throw it away. It won’t hurt my feelings. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Zelda returned to behind the counter and joined her fellow baristas in trying to handle the line that had grown a bit in her absence.

Thomas walked out of the shop with his latte. Zelda kept his eyes on him as he stood before the large picture window.

“Come on, come on, come on...” Zelda leaned over the counter, quietly encouraging him from a distance.

Thomas looked about, rubbed the back of his neck, took a deep breath, and placed his lips on the straw.

“YES!!” Zelda cheered. All that effort wasn’t in vain. She just hoped she’d be behind the counter when Thomas came back for his second trip to the Futa Brew.

\---

In the hustle and bustle of working at a coffee shop, time can fly by. Events can be remembered out of order, or remembered on the wrong day, or with the wrong participants. If the stories told from the perspective of this little coffee shop seem jumbled or confusing, they sometimes are to the women who experienced them first-hand.

If they seem like the deranged stories told by some perverts on the Internet, the truth is that the debauchery presented here is just the tip of the iceberg.

\---

Melanie and Vanna were at the registers, occasionally swapping out with the others when they had to make coffees of their assigned flavor. Melanie liked to think she was the fastest at the register, as the one with the most experience. She could foresee customer complaints or concerns from a great distance and act to counter them. The jerking off was the longest part of her coffee-making process, despite practicing that for much longer than she’d worked at the Futa Brew. 

But in four years of working at the Futa Brew, Melanie had never been faced with this: standing in line, dressed in perfect businesswoman attire, was Stella... a friend from high school.

Melanie felt a panic fill her heart like almost never before. This was like being caught masturbating by your parents, your grandparents, the football team, all while Ed McMahon entered the room with a giant novelty check and camera crew. Stella’s nose was buried in her phone, as was typical for her, so she hadn’t noticed Melanie yet.

Melanie’s degree was in English, but she was still pretty good at math. There were four people in line in front of her. If Melanie finished her customer first, she’d get the first guy in line, Vanna the second, and so on... and she’d have to serve Stella.

Melanie pretended the credit card reader was malfunctioning for just ten seconds to let Vanna slip ahead of her so Vanna would take the next guy in line. Now Stella would go to Vanna. Melanie tried to relax, but at any moment, Stella could turn her head up and see her.

She’d almost rather it be someone she hated from high school. It would be easier to blow her off. Melanie and Stella were friendly, but seldom saw each other outside of school. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she appreciated that all the people who visited the Futa Brew only saw her there.

The other customers flew by in a distracted, worried haze. Melanie raced to keep pace with Vanna, who was no slouch herself, and her masturbation technique was excellent, as Melanie had seen many times before. They finished the last two before Stella at the same moment, both handing the receipts out within a second of each other. Melanie sighed. She would make some excuse to leave the register for just a bit. She was the assistant manager, after all. She always had a stack of crap she had to do somewhere else, even when it was busy.

“Vanna, can you make this Vanilla?” Connie called from near the sink. “That guy’s been waiting for it.”

“Be right there.” Vanna said.

And Vanna turned away from her register without taking a new customer.

Melanie watched Vanna leaving her post as if she was falling down a cliff, disappearing into the fog that hid the rocky gorge below.

She turned back. Stella was there now, right at the counter still looking down, tapping away at her phone.

“Welcome to the Futa Brew.” Melanie croaked nervously. “What can I get you?”

“Yeah, can I get--” Stella said before finally looking up. She gasped, eyes widened and smile open wide. “Melanie!”

“Hey.” Melanie waved.

“How’ve you been? It’s--”

Stella looked down.

“Whoa!” Stella put her hand over her heart. “Well, there’s THAT question finally answered. Wow. How were you not getting laid constantly in high school?”

“I think this is why I WASN’T.” Melanie said.

“You’re kidding. That thing’s huge.”

“I’m actually the smallest of everyone who works here.”

Stella looked about and saw the other baristas walking around with their hard-ons out. “What IS this place?”

“We make special flavored dairy-free lattes with our... semen.” Melanie felt stupid explaining something she did with confidence for forty hours a week. Sometimes, explaining your passion to someone completely outside it would inevitably make you sound like a weirdo.

“Dairy-free lattes?” Stella blinked. “Wow, I haven’t had a latte in so long. I guess I’ll get one of those.”

“Sure. What flavor?” Melanie tapped the screen.

“Do you have caramel?”

Melanie resisted the urge to slam her head into her register screen. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I’m Caramel today.”

“Oh, awesome.” Stella said. “You can make it while we catch up.”

Melanie sighed. She grabbed a clear plastic cup and set it near herself. She leaned on the back counter and started playing with herself.

“So... what do you do these days?” Melanie asked, betting that it wasn’t masturbating for a living.

“I’m a literary publicist. Well, I work FOR one.” Stella said, watching as Melanie worked her cock with the expression of a camgirl who had long ago burned out her enthusiasm on this form of income.

“That’s cool. Do you get to travel?”

“All the time.” She said. “But I travel so much, I had to give my cat to my ex-boyfriend. I was just never home!”

“Wow, that sucks.” Melanie said, still tugging herself. “I wondered why you stopped posting pictures of her on you Facebook. So what brings you to Seattle?”

“We’re doing a book tour for this guy who plays for the Knicks. He’s not super famous or anything, but the tour’s been going well, and he’s a really nice guy.”

“That’s cool.” Melanie kept whacking, looking away.

“You... do this full-time?”

“I do, actually.” Melanie looked back.

Stella was gently biting her lower lip, and one hand had began to rub her neck. She could see her shift in place a bit, pinching her thighs together.

She’s into this, Melanie thought.

Of course she is. Melanie was sexy and used her huge dong every hour of every workday. Of course she’d like this. That’s why there was almost always a line. To get someone to wait in line for coffee... in SEATTLE... they had something special.

“You know...” Melanie said, finding her footing again and gaining speed. “Here at the Futa Brew, we are all at your service. It’s customary for us to take requests if you’d like us to do something special, or if you want to touch me... that’s fine. All you have to do is ask.”

“Oh.” Stella said softly.

Melanie was back in her groove. The tables had turned. She went harder, arching her back a bit and jerking it off right towards her. “Is there anything...” She huffed. “else you want?”

Stella didn’t answer. She pulled in her lips like she was trying to hold words in her mouth, lest they escape and cause her embarrassment. Her cheeks grew a bit red at the strain.

And Melanie came.

There was a maneuver that the baristas called “The Cocktail.” Named after the 1988 Tom Cruise film about flair bartending, the name was not initially intended as a double entendre. Patti disapproved of the move, and told them not to do it.

The moment unfolded in slow motion. Melanie came, spraying a long rope of come out towards Stella. It sailed at her like an effect in a 3D movie. Stella’s jaw lowered involuntarily, sensing the bulls-eye on the center of her tongue.

Melanie jumped forward, swinging the plastic cup out in front of the strand of spunk and catching it in the cup. She brought the cup back in towards herself, the cup briefly pointed downward, the strand of come gathering at the base of the cup.

Zelda caught the move and cheered loudly. Upstairs, Patti held her temple for a moment. She knew exactly what had happened. Maybe she’d yell at them later.

Melanie returned the cup to the upright position and pointed her cock downward and kept filling the glass...

And let the creamy come fill up the glass until the rising level covered the tip of her cock.

They didn’t have a name for this move. Patti hated this one, too. Luckily, she couldn’t see it.

Once she was satisfied, Melanie pulled the tip out, frosted in white, and walked over to the espresso machine to pull two shots.

“Here we go.” Melanie set the cup down in front of Stella. “Anything else?”

“How many times a day do you do that?”

“I prefer not to keep track.” Melanie shook her head.

Stella’s lips parted and approached the straw, but she hesitated. “Well, thanks for this. What do I owe you?”

“This one’s on me, Stella.” Melanie said.

“Well, thanks a bunch. Uh...” Stella looked embarrassed. “Do you want to meet up tonight and maybe get some drinks?”  
“I can’t drink.”

“Yeah, it sucks getting older, huh?”

“No, I’m literally not allowed to drink alcohol.” Melanie explained. “Someone with a religious restriction on alcohol objected to us being allowed to drink. I told him that alcohol isn’t excreted in semen, but... the office came down and said that if we serve anything that’s even a teeny bit alcoholic without telling anyone, we could get in trouble.”

Melanie paused for a second. “But that’s not me trying to get out of hanging out. Just message me on Facebook.”

Stella nodded, still not taking a sip. Under the expectant stare of Melanie... she felt that strange sensation of stage fright.

Vanna returned to her counter. “Who’s next?” She immediately sensed the different energy between Melanie and the customer. “Who is this?”

“Wow, I see what you mean that the others are bigger.” Stella said, looking at Vanna. “Holy crap.”

“You know her?” Vanna asked.

“This is Stella. I went to high school with her.”

“And you had to jerk it off for her?” Vanna laughed. “That must have been embarrassing.”

“Not really.” Melanie said.

“I’m glad all my classmates are in Canada. I don’t know anyone here.”

A man stepped into the shop, a man so tall that he had to bend his head way over just to get into the door. A seven-foot-tall man in a white sweatshirt and jeans, the hood up over his head. He was evidently trying go unnoticed, an impossible task for such a man.

He walked up to Stella. “Hey.” He said in his baritone voice. “We almost set?”

Vanna gasped with both her lungs. She hustled around the counter, almost slipping, and ran up to him, panting. “You... you’re Vas DiFerenzi!”

“Yes, I am.” He confirmed, looking down. “And who...?” He noticed Vanna’s bare erection. “Where did you take me, Stella? What is this place?”

“It’s a coffee shop with futa waitresses.” Stella said. “You said you wanted coffee.”

“You like coffee? Let me make you a French Vanilla, please!” She had to clutch her hands into fists so she wouldn’t wrap them around him.

Stella pulled on Vas’ sweatshirt waist like a child trying to get their father’s attention. Vas leaned down and Stella whispered in his ear.

“Oh!” He said, surprised, but not revolted. “Uh, I don’t think they’d let me drink that. Who knows if that would come up on a PED scan. Could I just get a plain ol’ black coffee?”

“We can do that.” Melanie worked on getting that ready.

“Can I just say that... you’re the best?” Vanna shook with excitement. “Those one-handed rebounds, and that shot in the 2009 finals in Game 5? That was life-changing.”

“Why thank you...” Vas nodded politely, trying not to look. “You really are... my biggest fan, aren’t you?”

Vanna laughed hard. “Yeah. I wasn’t tall enough to play, but I’m still... blessed.”

“I thought I had it pretty good in that department, but... apparently not.”

“Can I take a selfie?” Vanna tried not to beg. She was struggling to maintain a ‘chill,’ as one would say in English vernacular.

“Sure, why not?” Vas said. “I’ll take one, too.”

Vas kept their faces in shot and avoided showing Vanna’s erection in his selfie.

Vanna framed her shot differently, keeping her erection in place and cutting off the very top of Vas’ head.

As they left, Vanna swore off coffee for the rest of the day. She wouldn’t need it. Her heart was still pounding.

A few minutes later, Vas returned to the shop for just a moment and gave something to Vanna; a signed copy of his book. On the front page, he wrote:

“Vanna,  
When you stood next to me, I never felt smaller in my life. Thank you.  
\--Vas”

 

At the bottom was a personal email address and a promise of future friendly correspondence.

It took a while for Vanna to calm down after this. Connie had to take the book away from her before she warped it in hands while jumping around.

\---

“Could I get a coconut latte?” Asked the latest customer, a larger man of about thirty with a sweatshirt and matching pants. He spoke in a near constant monotone, as if every breath was taxing.

“Certainly.” Zelda said. “Connie!” She called towards the sink, where Connie was washing a dish.

“Oh!” The customer looked surprised. “You’re not Coconut today.”

“Nope, I’m Hazelnut.” Connie walked over. “She’s Coconut.”

“I thought you were always Coconut.”

“Nope.” Zelda repeated, wondering how he’d gotten that impression.

The customer was silent.

“What’s on your mind?” Connie asked.

“I have a request, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“What is it?” Zelda asked.

The customer looked at Zelda. “Could you... get the Coconut, please?”

Zelda and Connie looked at each other. “Like...” Zelda said, making a jerk-off motion with her fist.

The customer nodded, a little too embarrassed to confirm it with words.

“Absolutely.” Connie smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Connie and Zelda walked around the counter and brought the guy to a seat.

“It’s probably better if you do it. I’ve got those dishpan hands right now...” Connie took a seat across from him.

Zelda stood aside Connie, holding an empty coffee cup and a tin containing lots of dime-sized discs of a slightly off-white color. They looked like pieces of white chocolate shaped into thin wafers to make them melt evenly.

“You know what these are?” Zelda said. “This is cocoa butter. We used to use these when we had a pastry chef, but we don’t anymore. So now they’re good for snacking...” Zelda popped one in her mouth and chewed it, it melting into a buttery mass in her mouth. “and this.”

Zelda palmed a few of them and held them against Connie’s cock. Almost instantly, a few yellow-white streams of melted cocoa butter started to run down Connie’s cock. “Oh, no, it’s melting so fast, because your cock is just so hot.” Zelda gathered the dribbles in her other hand and massaged the butter into Connie’s cock with both hands until the whole huge thing shimmered like an oiled-up wrestler.

Connie pulled her knees under the chair and rested her hands on her thighs, panting and howling as Zelda ran her little hand up and down Connie’s huge cock. “My hands can’t even get all the way around it. It’s just too big...”

The customer fumbled for his phone. Before he pulled it all the way out of his pocket, he asked, “Do you mind if I film this?”

“Of course not.” Zelda said. “Right, Connie?”

Connie groaned in ecstasy, but managed to point both her thumbs upward in an unambiguous sign of consent. The customer activated his phone’s video recorder.

“Ooooh, your cock is so delicious and big, I can’t stand it.” Zelda whimpered. “It’s too bad we need every drop of your sweet come, because otherwise I’d suck you off right now in front of everyone.”

Connie bucked and shivered under the firm jerk of Zelda’s iron grip. Zelda leaned in and teased Connie’s balls with her tongue. “Ooh, your balls are so nice.” She sucked the orbs against her lips, unable to take it into her mouth completely. “Let me get them all nice and wet.” She kept sucking and licking. “Ooh, they’re too big to fit in my mouth. You must have so much jizz ready for me. Your balls are so wonderful...” Zelda rubbed her nose between them, in as close to the classic ‘motorboating’ action as she could do here.

Zelda looked directly at the camera. “Don’t you wish you were here? Don’t you wish you were the one stroking this huge black cock? This isn’t a camera trick or wide-angle lens, I swear. Check it out.” Zelda produced another of those novelty rulers, the sudden appearance seeming to alarm Connie.

“See?” Zelda put the ruler aside Connie’s cock. “Eleven inches! Same as me. We’re cock twins, aren’t we, Connie?” She leaned her head over Connie’s and lashed her tongue in front of her mouth, swapping strands of spit with each other. 

Connie’s swarthy cheeks was starting to flush. “Don’t you wish you were here?” Zelda asked. “We wish you were here to watch us. Come on down to the Futa Brew and drink the finest flavored futa jizz around. No futa cocks under ten inches, guaranteed! Visit us on Pike Street in Seattle! Exit 2C off of I-90 West!”

Connie clenched her teeth and took the empty cup from Zelda’s other hand. She scooted back on her chair, barely getting her cock down in the cup in time to follow a long volley of ropey blasts of come. She fired over and over, falling to her knees from the sudden weakness, as if she’d deflate like a blow-up doll struck with a dart.

The man recorded the entire thirty-second ejaculation spectacle, momentarily forgetting how to zoom in and simply leaning out of his chair to watch ever closer as the spurts became an endless dribble.

And the whole vicinity smelled like coconut.

Connie pulled herself into her seat, her whole body shiny with sweat, her cock still glistening even more. Zelda looked at the customer. “See... that’s what you and me have in common.” Said Zelda.

The amateur photographer finally turned off his recording. “What’s that?” He asked softly. As evidenced by the roll of dimes sticking out from inside his sweatpants... it certainly wasn’t that. He really wanted her to put that ruler away.

Zelda put her upturned palm under the still-tricking tip of Connie’s cock, gathered a little and licked it off. “We both love coconut.”

She returned to the counter with the cup two-thirds full of Connie’s jizz. Connie herself hadn’t yet recovered entirely. She summoned the strength to raise her head up to ask the customer something.

“Were you going to put that on the Internet?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” The customer confessed. “When she turned it into a commercial, I started to think she had the wrong idea. Not like this can go on Youtube...”

Connie waved her hand. “Either way. It’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” The man seemed to be warming up to the idea.

“Go for it.” Connie stood, withdrawing a business card from her breast pocket. She’d written her email on the back of a stack of old ones. “Just get me a copy.”

“Here we go.” Zelda returned with the completed drink and handed it to the customer.

“Oh, OK.” The man had almost forgotten that there was a coffee drink in his future. He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“I’ll get change.” Zelda almost ran off, but the man waved his hand.

“You two can split the change.” The man excused himself, trying to keep the bottom of his sweatshirt’s zipper over his crotch.

“Thank you!!” Zelda shouted, waving. Once he was out of earshot, Zelda spoke as they walked back behind the counter. “Why should we split this? I did all the work. All you did was have a screaming orgasm.”

Connie just rubbed her palm against the head of Zelda’s erection, licking the small wet patch off her hand a second later.

Zelda returned to her register, groaning with the strain of her balls aching and twitching in protest. It felt like they were percolating hot jizz inside them, desperate to be released in a grateful paper cup or open mouth. “I’ll take who’s next!” She cried over the rumble of activity, holding her hand above her head.

The man at the front of the line was a blond dude with dreadlocks that never looked like they could be seen as a good idea, but it was a better idea than that Celtics jersey draped around his skinny body.

She really REALLY wished he would be a Hazelnut latte.

No such luck. “Could I get a Caramel latte?”

Zelda clenched her teeth and tapped it into her register.

He also had a special request. “And... could someone do what you gals did for that other guy?”

The word ‘caramel’ had got Melanie’s attention. While waiting for a credit card to finish processing, she leaned over and asked, “Can that wait until the line’s shorter, please? We can only do special requests when there’s not eight people in line.”

“I can wait.” Said the dreadlocked man, taking a nearby seat.

“Of course you can wait.” Zelda said. “Watching this hand job will be the closest thing you’ve had to a job since George Bush was in office. Maybe either of them.”

Zelda hadn’t said that.

But she had definitely thought it.

The man rolled his watch over on his wrist, checked the time and blew out a sigh.

“No, I feel you, man.” Zelda said, for real this time. “It sucks to have to wait. Who’s next?”

“Can I get a French Vanilla?”

Zelda whimpered. The rejection felt like a storm was roiling in her scrotum.

She tried not to take it personally.

The other seven orders, not one of them Hazelnut... she took those personally. Each one felt like an already filled elevator was being crammed with two more fat guys. Her cock leaked clear precum like a small river that reached her balls, possibly for the first time ever. When the line finally diminished, the dreadlocked man picked Connie to unleash Melanie’s caramel come.

Watching from behind the counter, denied even the pleasure of clasping Melanie’s big hard cock in her hand, watching as they both sucked air through their teeth, wondering which of them really enjoyed it more...

“You OK?” Vanna asked, standing to Zelda’s left, shaking up her latest creation, watching as the black and white swirled into beige inside the clear cup, the same illusion occurring with Connie’s hand wrapped around Melanie’s cock.

“I’m just really backed up.” Zelda moaned.

Vanna set the drink down momentarily, put her finger on Zelda’s chin and brought it up to her lips. Vanna released the kiss, and Zelda pushed in and stole another one quickly.

“That isn’t helping.” Zelda shuddered.

“I know.” Vanna smiled devilishly, bringing her drink to her customer.

Zelda held her temples momentarily. “Can I help the next customer?” She called to the line.

“Can I get a Mint Mocha?”

Zelda smothered a whimper in her lips. “Patti, we need a mint.”

“OK!” She called from the window.

In her office, Patti clicked away from her reporting program to the other active window: a playlist of ever-cycling pornography. She held the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“No, you sent us a case of coffee GROUNDS.” She continued her phone call while she started masturbating. “We need the beans.” A pause. She held the phone away from her ear, rolling her eyes. She brought the receiver back in. “Look, not two months ago, you sent us unroasted beans! So you know we grind our own here. ... No, we don’t roast here. We’re not that fancy.”

A few more seconds of blather from the other end. “Excuse me for a minute. A customer needs me.”

She pressed the hold button. She clicked part of the timeline to her favorite part of this particular porn clip. She grabbed a cup and caught her come in it. She didn’t wait for every dribble to finish, instead gathering the rest in a handy tissue.

Patti minimized the porn and returned to her document. She picked up the phone with one hand and lowered the cup into a chute near her desk. The minty cup reappeared directly below her office, landing softly onto a pillow.

“Sorry about that.” Patti took a little lotion in her hands, foregoing the hand sanitizer. Nobody touched the stuff in her office but her. She picked the phone back up. “Where were we?”

Zelda took the mint-filled cup, pulled two shots of espresso, perhaps a little short, and did something that baffled the man who ordered it: she put in four spoonfuls of hot chocolate mix.

“Wait a second.” The man spoke up over the crowd noise. “I’m paying for something that comes out of a box?”

Zelda turned around. “I suppose partially.”

The man looked a little suspicious. “Where did the white stuff come from?”

“That was not in a box, I swear.” Zelda said. “This was from my boss upstairs. She’s Mint today, but she can’t always come downstairs. I’ll rub one out if you want to watch.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Zelda disagreed with that assessment, groaning. Where were the hazelnut fans to save her from this torment?

“Isn’t one of you chocolate-flavored?” The man asked.

“Actually, no.” Zelda answered. “Thus, the mix.”

“I don’t get it. Why isn’t one of you chocolate?”

Zelda paused, seeing Melanie come back behind the counter. “Melanie, can you field this one so I can finish this drink? He wants to know why one of us isn’t Chocolate.”

“OK.” Melanie took the customer’s attention while Zelda worked on the drink. “I remember when we had the Chocolate implants. We had it for about four months. With all the other flavors, after you leave here, you come once and the next one has no flavor remaining. With chocolate, it was like the next five or six times you’d come, they’d all tasted chocolatey. For the rest of the day, and sometimes, into the next day, that chocolate flavor would just linger. It’s such a strong flavor, it had far too much carryover.”

“Caramel!” Vanna yelled.

“Got it!” Melanie grabbed a cup and started pounding her cock. She continued explaining, her voice wobbling as she spoke. “Maybe the implants have improved since then, but the other reason why we got rid of it, or at least what the office would have you believe, is that... the chocolate just tasted lousy. It tasted like Cocoa Pebbles, like the cheapest, grossest chocolate. It was...” She strained, her speech stopping and her cheeks flushing as she filled her cup.

Melanie caught her breath. “It was bad. Trust me, this stuff is way better. If you don’t like it, I’ll give you a refund.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” The man said again. Zelda finished the coffee and presented it to the man.

“And what’s really great about this...” Zelda jumped back in. “Is that there’s no crappy syrup settling at the bottom of the mug. It’s perfectly mixed, of course, because we made it.”

The man accepted it, paid and left. He didn’t take a sip before he left. The teasing Zelda was enduring would drive any normal woman insane.

Of course, describing Zelda as a ‘normal woman’ was probably not accurate.

“Who’s next?” She got the attention of the next man in line.

“Could I get a Hazelnut?”

Zelda almost cheered. “You most certainly can!”

His latte turned out very, very light. But it tasted a lot like hazelnut.

\---

Around ten o’clock, the business would slow down enough that all four of them didn’t have to be out on the floor nonstop. This was when non-essential duties like sweeping, wiping tables and trash disposal could be taken care of. Normally, whoever was assigned to Coconut or some other less-demanded flavor would be the one to take out the trash. It was easier than fighting over it, and having French Vanilla away from the counter for five minutes wouldn’t be wise.

Connie emptied the indoor trash bins into a large wheeled trash barrel, donning latex gloves to keep her hands clean. She tied the bag up from the barrel before walking it outside to the dumpster. Of course, she was only half-dressed and her cock was still hard and throbbing. She could go put her coat on, but she didn’t want trash juice on her coat. Even if the ‘juice’ was probably mostly coffee, it didn’t matter. Ruining one coat was enough that she’d never do it again.

The dumpster was adjacent to the parking lot, where there wasn’t much to see but the cars and the fenced-in dumpster. But while in public on the cafe’s property, as a concession to modesty, Connie wrapped her cock with a condom. The box of XXXL condoms were provided by the main office, placed next to a memo that warned that they were not to be used for intercourse while on the clock, or else a Disciplinary Notice Letter would be filed.

Luckily, Connie never wore condoms during intercourse. She threw away the full bag of trash, holding her breath until she was inside, and dropped her gloves in the waste basket in the back room. She returned to the floor, catching the eye of a larger man with a blue bandana and denim vest.

He pointed at her crotch without really meaning to. “Is that a to-go box?”

“It can be, honey.” Connie walked up to him. “You want it?”

“What flavor’s on tap?” The man brought his palm underneath her balls, lifting them softly and cradling them with his fingers.

Connie ignored the minor breach in protocol. He hadn’t asked to touch her, but he was at least being gentle. “Today, I’ve got Coconut.”

The man released Connie’s balls as if she just told him they were radioactive. “Ooh. No thank you.”

Connie opened her arms. “Fine. I’ll take my balls where we’re appreciated.” Connie sat herself down in one of the chairs and masturbated. Having her flavor neglected for too long, she was backed up, and ejaculated in less than twenty seconds of hard pounding. She filled the condom almost all the way full of her piña colada-scented sweetness. She tied it off, wiped her tip with a few napkins, and set her filled condom on the custom tray for such daily deals.

Because of legal mumbo-jumbo, there was no difference in price between a drink with or without the special sweeteners. Even if the customer were to wring the futa jizz out of their meaty cocks with their own two hands, the only thing they paid for was the drink itself. In the legal sense, this meant the transaction was not prostitution.

The ‘gift boxes,’ as the man had put it, weren’t part of any consensual sex act between two people, so those could be sold for however much they wanted. But at the Futa Brew, filled condoms were set out on the tray for anyone who wanted them. It was flattering to know that any customer wanted to take their flavor home.

“I swear it’s nothing personal.” Said the denimed man. “I’m allergic to coconuts.”

Connie inhaled to say something, and then her eyebrows lowered. She looked down to the crumpled napkins in her hand and her own cock with a curiosity that made her look like she’d never noticed it before. “Would that cause a reaction?”

“Well, I’m not eager to find out.” The man pulled his eyes away from Vanna whacking off her huge meatstick for a few seconds to look at Connie. He didn’t want to miss the money shot. “But the one time I had coconut when I was a kid, I didn’t like it AND I almost died.”

“Not a bad thing to be allergic to, then, huh?” Connie reasoned, finally tossing out her napkin. “Hey, Patti?”

“Yeah?” Patti called from the office above the counter, the window open enough that she could hear such a call.

“If someone’s allergic to coconut, can they have the Coconut mixer?”

A few second of silence, except for Vanna’s watch jingling on her hand as she pounded her cock. “I’m not sure.” Patti confessed. “If you’re lactose-intolerant, you can have the mixers.”

“Yeah, there’s no lactose in it. Obviously.” Connie called. “But... is there coconut in the Coconut mixer? Or is it artificial?”

“Hnnnnggggg...” Vanna cried dramatically, finally spilling her seed into the bottom of the paper cup, sweat giving a shimmer to her forehead and decolletage.

“I don’t know for sure.” Patti said, once Vanna had quieted down.

“Are there ingredients on the package?”

“Melanie, go find the package and see if there’s ingredients on it.”

“I’m with a customer.” Melanie answered. Patti couldn’t see from her vantage point, but Melanie was on all fours in one of the booths, the table from the booth having been moved away so a man in a suit could pull her cock straight down into a plastic iced coffee cup. Melanie could feel his wedding ring roll up and down her cock, occasionally catching the skin uncomfortably in the gap between the ring and his finger. And he hadn’t used any lotion, the brute.

“Fine, I’ll look for them.” Connie disappeared into the back for a moment. Zelda finished up mixing up the man’s drink while Vanna recovered.

“Would you like anything else?” Zelda asked.

“No, that should do it.” The man tapped his smart phone to the credit card reader, and the debt was paid somewhere in cyberspace. “Thanks.” He walked out of the cafe.

While he was still in view, Connie came back in. When she realized he was gone, she went after him, grabbing a condom to cover herself again.

She caught him in front of the picture windows in front of the cafe. “Hey!” She got his attention. “The bag was blank, so we don’t know if it’s allergic or not, but... if you email our district manager, they might be able to answer that question.” She held out a business card.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” The man stepped back, posing her palms outward.

“What? I’ve got a condom on.”

“Could we not talk out here, please?”

Connie looked at the customer a little sideways. She pulled her shirt out of her skirt for a moment and threw it over her cock. “Is that better?”

“Look, I just don’t need people seeing me talking to you with your thing out, OK?”

“So you’ll drink our jizz, but you don’t want to talk to me in public?”

“This is a regular coffee, as far as anyone else knows.” The man pointed confidently.

Connie’s left eye twitched involuntarily. “There’s out logo on the cup! It’s literally a cartoon of a futa ejaculating into a coffee cup!”

The man pulled a reusable coffee cup sleeve out of his pocket, one normally reserved for iced coffees to stop them from condensing all over the place. “What logo?” The man said as he placed it inside the sleeve. “Look, I love your coffee. But what I do inside there has got nothing to do with me outside. OK?”

The man walked off to continue his day.

Connie walked back into the Futa Bar. Melanie saw her return and spoke up from her makeshift milking bench.

“You shouldn’t have followed him out like that.” Melanie said, the man still working her.

“I just wanted to give him the card of the main office, so he can ask them.”

“WE can do that.” Melanie said. “And besides, you know some people are embarrassed to get their coffee here.”

“That’s bull.” Connie said. “That’s unfair. ‘I’ll drink your sweet jizz, but I don’t want anyone to KNOW that I’m drinking it.’ Is this a straight guy’s version of being in the closet?”

“I’ll go right out and say...” Said the man milking Melanie at the moment. “That I don’t give a damn who knows I’m here. I tell people about this place all the time. It’s my favorite coffee place by a mile. If you need someone in your commercials, I’ll do it.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, sir.” Melanie said. “You should send in feedback on the website. That way the higher-ups know you like what we do...” This was taking a while, Melanie thought. Maybe if she held her breath...

“Well... it’s not like any of us know your name.” Connie shrugged.

“My name is Douglas James Gable.” The man said suddenly, gripping Melanie tighter, who grunted. “Would you like me to spell it?”

“Wait a minute...” Zelda recognized the name. “Isn’t there a Dr. Gable’s office near here?”

“That’s me.” Douglas said. “I’m a dentist.”

“Well, what brought a dentist into our den of debauchery and coffee?” Zelda inquired.

“Why wouldn’t a dentist love the world’s best sugar-free sweetener?”

“Oh my God!” Zelda said, turning to face Patti’s window. “Patti!”

“What?”

“If we get three more dentists in here, we can say four out of five dentists recommend the Futa Brew!”

There was no immediate response, except for the rustling of Melanie’s continued and still fruitless milking.

“What?” Patti repeated.

“Never mind.”

Connie looked out the window, at the passersby walking by, most with some sort of beverage in their hands. Either that or a phone, the coffee of the mind.

“At least he didn’t have a Styrofoam cup.”

“What?” Melanie squeaked.

“He didn’t use a Styrofoam cup to cover his coffee, like they do at other places.” Connie said. “That drove me nuts at the last shop I worked at, when people would get a Styrofoam cup just so their iced coffee wouldn’t sweat on their desk or wouldn’t be too cold to hold. That’s such a waste. It’s not like it can be recycled easily. At least use the same one every day...”

Melanie let out a straining grunt. Finally, she released herself into the plastic cup, the man wringing every drop out of her cock over the course of an intense forty second orgasm.

The man looked at the cup. “Ooh, this looks like too much.”

“It felt like a lot.” Melanie wheezed, staying on all fours until the dizziness passed enough to let her stand on two legs again. Before she could stand, Douglas stood from his seat and held Melanie’s chin. He put the cup up to her lips and poured some of her jizz into her mouth.

Melanie made an alarmed sound, but still opened her mouth and permitted the man to pour about half the cup into her mouth, three big mouthfuls of her own come crawling warmly down her throat. A tiny flicker of disgust flared in her mind, but it was quickly drowned out.

It tasted amazing. She’d forgotten how much she loved the taste of caramel. The hot, almost buttery liquid was the perfect level of sweetness. No wonder it was so popular.

Douglas rubbed Melanie’s hair with the hand that had recently been jacking her off, brushing it flat back against her head the way you might stroke a horse’s mane. He got up suddenly and brought the half-filled cup to the counter for mixing. Melanie was left there, stunned, a strand of come hanging from her lip like a stalactite.

Zelda completed the drink and rang up the dentist. She had one last question for him. “So, one professional to another... how do you avoid coffee stains on your teeth?”

“Drink it through a straw.” He pointed.

“That’s stupid.” Zelda said immediately.

“Then use whitening toothpaste, or any over-the-counter whitening product.” Dr. Gable continued. “Just follow the instructions. Don’t leave it on for any longer than they say.”

He left. Melanie took a few deep breaths, returning to her feet. She retrieved the cleaning spray and started to give the tables a good buff.

“You ever see her blush so hard?” Connie asked Zelda as she waited for a credit card to go through.

“Nope.” She responded.

“I can hear both of you.” Melanie looked up, cheeks sill flushed.

\---

Can you do some refills?” Melanie patted Vanna on the shoulder to get her attention and pointed to a pair of men sat in the corner booth. They’d been there for a while, both their cups empty.

“Sure.” Vanna poured two cups of regular black coffee and set them on a tray. She went into the drawer and withdrew a soft blue cylindrical device. Most would recognize it as a ‘pocket pussy’ style device, but this one had a screw fitting on one end to hold a clear plastic bottle on the end. It was the only way to fill these things with come neatly. They used to have little ceramic cream pitchers, but they were too small to hold the full volume of their emission, and filling them all at once was always a mess. Now, they used clear squeezable bottles that were the same size and shape as diner ketchup bottles, with the same narrow cone-shaped dispensing spout.

Vanna pushed her huge cock into the pocket pussy with some difficulty, the gel stretching over her girth. These products were not designed with her in mind, but then again, what was? The pocket pussy itself was only six inches long. Maybe it was a commentary on the sort of people who use them and their size.

The first time she used one of these, she didn’t like it. The inside was filled with round nubs that felt slimy and weird. She pictured the American tradition of closing ones eyes and touching stuff at Halloween, claiming wet macaroni to be zombie brains or something. At first touch, she found this to be a gross experience.

But as she used it more, and on days where she would masturbate with her own hand many times... the pocket pussy was a nice change of pace. It was cooler than her hand, and tugged and gripped her cock with a million wet, tacky fingers. She could see herself using this product at home and having fun... if one was built to handle her size more easily. She wondered when this thing would finally tear apart from her stern thrusts.

Today, of course, Vanna had to fill this bottle, so she rubbed the wet, cold thing on her cock and held her breath until she came and filled the whole bottle, the internals of the pocket pussy... and a few dribbles of come sprayed out around the edges.

Melanie had watched her do that without meaning to. She clenched her teeth.

Vanna uncoupled the pocket pussy from the bottle, and Melanie was there to take it.

“I’ll wash this.” She said.

Merci beaucoup.” Vanna said, screwing the squeeze nozzle onto the full bottle and setting it on the tray. She walked it out.

Melanie took the pocket pussy to the sink and turned on the water. She looked at it, the puckered hole barely returning to its shape after being stretched by Vanna’s giant cock. Melanie’s hand tensed, and she squeezed the gelatinous thing inadvertently. A single drop of Vanna’s leftover come slipped out of the hole.

With her heart pounding, turning away from the crowd and her coworkers, Melanie put her lips to the portal of the pocket pussy and slurped out what she could. She even slid her tongue into it to taste just a little more sweet vanilla.

Once she was satisfied, she lowered the pocket pussy from her lips and rinsed it in the sink, as she said she would. Despite how often semen was consumed in this establishment, Melanie really hoped nobody had seen her do that.

Zelda had. In a mark of considerable restraint, she just chuckled to herself.

Vanna presented the two black coffees to the men sitting at the far booth. “With our compliments.”

“Thank you.” Said one of the men. “Do you have creamer?”

Vanna held the squeeze bottle and gave it a gentle shake. “Fresh squeezed, one minute ago... by me... from me.”

The man took it and squeezed a little into his cup. His friend took the bottle and pointed it at her with a playful smirk. “What if I squirted this all over your titties?”

She looked down at herself. “I don’t want my bra to get all sticky...”

“Then get rid of the bra.” The bro helpfully suggested.

“Maybe Zelda can field this one.” She looked back to the counter, seeing Zelda at the register. “She’s busy. Maybe when the line is over.”

Zelda walked back. What she hadn’t told them was that ‘refills’ was a euphemism for a customer who seemed to just be hanging around for no reason. Their latte cups were empty and they were sitting and talking. This was fine, but all the seats were occupied, and all the seats were now filled. The logic was that giving them free coffee would inevitably force them to the lavatory, out of the seat, where it could be sat in by a new customer. Even the coffee they used would likely be tossed out for a newly brewed batch within minutes.

This time, it didn’t work. They went to the lavatory individually, hogging the booth while groups of four crowded into couches meant for three.

They wouldn’t encounter them again until later on, as Vanna circled the counter with a dainty watering can. It dribbled little drops of water down the spout as she walked, having filled it higher than recommended so she wouldn’t have to fill it more than once and walk back. She didn’t mind; her cock was doing the same thing, a wet line like a streak of tears running down the underside.

She visited each thirsty plant in turn and fed them, similar to what they did at this establishment. When she came around to the front window, she stepped to the side to be out of the view from the window. The passersby and neighbors didn’t seem to mind them walking around with their cocks out, so long as they didn’t just hang out in plain view from the street. Maybe they didn’t mind either way.

Vanna bent over about ninety degrees to water one of the last plants, sprinkling the water about delicately to not disrupt the soil. Because of the uniform’s lack of underwear, Vanna had unintentionally presented herself to one of the two men she’d served refills to, her nice round ass, the little slit of her pussy, and even her huge balls hanging below it.

The second man cocked an eyebrow, gestured with both hands to the bare ass presented to him, and gave Vanna’s right butt cheek a slap.

Springing up and almost losing grip of the watering can, Vanna swung her right hand and slapped the man across the face with the back of her hand.

“Ah! What the hell?!” The man said.

“You slap me, I slap you.” Vanna said directly.

The man looked about, as if the rule made no sense. “But I saw someone spank her and he didn’t get slapped back.”

“Yes, but he almost certainly asked permission, or else he would have gotten a slap back. That’s the rule. Ask permission, and we’ll do almost anything you want. But it’s all at our...” Vanna paused to think of the English word. She knew the French word. “discretion. You did it right the first time, when you wanted to squirt the stuff on me. Why didn’t you do it again?”

“I think I want to talk to your manager.” The guy said.

“Patti?” Vanna called up to her window.

“What is it?”

“He spanked me without asking, so I slapped him.”

“That’s fine.” Patti answered.

“I don’t think it IS fine.” The man called out to the window.

“If you really don’t think consent is important,” Vanna looked at him. “Then how would you feel if I pounded your ass right now?”

The man smirked a bit, but then considered the mass of the thing he was facing. He slurped down his coffee and stood.

“You don’t have to leave.” Vanna said. “Nobody’s kicking you out.”

The man left, his friend trailing behind for just a moment.

“He’s a big fat chicken, but... I’d give it a shot.”

Vanna smiled. “You Americans... so eager to climb the biggest mountain.” 

\---

“I have a request.” Said a man with gray hair gracing his temples.

“Certainly. It’s not busy, so we can probably do it.” Melanie said. “What is it?”

“I want to have just the come that leaks out from one of your pussies when one of the others has sex with you.”

They all looked at each other. “We might be able to make that happen...” Melanie said. “What flavor do you want?”

“Hazelnut.”

“YES!” Zelda cheered. “Melanie, you want in on this?”

“I guess...” Zelda grabbed her hand and they walked into the cafe. They sat Melanie down on the edge of a couch, with Zelda poised above her. Connie positioned a cup below them to catch the drippings.

Zelda pressed the tip of her cock against Melanie’s pussy. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Three years of working together, and this is really going to be our first time, huh?”

“Yeah.” Melanie smiled. “Just don’t go easy on me.”

“You know I won’t.” They kissed once, and Zelda thrust herself inside.

The quiet music was now covered by the sounds of lovemaking. Zelda held Melanie’s hips and gave her pussy a mighty pounding.

In this industry, one practices ejaculating as fast as possible to increase customer turnover. It was the exact opposite approach for coitus. Zelda didn’t want to give the impression of being an ungenerous lover, especially with her more-than-generous package. After three years of waiting and doubtless thoughts about what it would be like, she had to perform.

Then again, there was also a thirsty man waiting for a drink. But... maybe he didn’t need the drink THAT quickly.

Melanie huffed and shuddered as Zelda thrust her rod into her. “How long has it been since you really got laid, huh?” Zelda asked.

“It’s been a while.” Melanie said. “Even then, I’m usually on top.”

“Well, not today.” Zelda kept pounding. “You just let me do all the work, OK?” 

Melanie’s hands came down on Zelda’s rear, letting the soft flesh slip against her fingertips. One hand reached up and gave the buttock a slap.

“What that supposed to be a spanking?” Zelda looked at Melanie, disappointed. “Hey, sir?” Zelda turned her head as far as she could, catching the customer’s eye without stopping her thrusting.

The customer looked about and pointed to himself with his thumb. “Me?”

“Can you show her what a real spank is like?” Zelda requested.

He stood and approached them, like a batter approaching the plate. “I can’t reach her with you in the way.”

“That’s fine; I meant that as an invitation to spank me.” Zelda instructed. “Come on, give me a good whack.”

The customer waited for a moment to watch the rate at which Zelda’s ass bobbed back and forth, timing his strike to make sure he wouldn’t miss and draw some undoubtedly heartless mockery. His firm spank landed as she was pulling out, multiplying the force of the impact and filling the room with the sound of the slap.

Zelda clenched her teeth and moaned loudly, picking up speed and thrusting harder into Melanie, who felt a little helpless, pinned in her seat under this punishment. She felt her wetness forced out and dripping into the cup like a leaking faucet.

“Now pull my hair!” Zelda begged.

“Who?” The customer asked.

“I don’t care!”

The customer took Zelda’s ponytail by the base and pulled it back gently, bringing her head back further and arching her back. She cried out. Melanie’s hands went onto Zelda’s breasts, folding the soft mounds in her palms, textured by the stiff fabric of the polo. She kept pounding away at Melanie’s hot slit, edging ever closer to orgasm.

“Are you on the pill?” Zelda asked.

“You’re asking NOW?” Melanie shouted.

And that’s when Zelda came. She held Melanie’s hips as she fired a hundred blasts of sticky come inside her. Some of it flowed into her, feeling like magma moving through her nethers, but most of it was forced out and down into the cup.

Zelda collapsed on top of Melanie, her ponytail slipping out of the customer’s grip, resting her head on Melanie’s shoulder. Connie helped Zelda to her feet, still dizzy from the combination of the exertion and the orgasm. This was why they masturbated instead of extracting the come this way: Zelda was bathed in that joyous post-orgasmic sensation they called ‘afterglow.’

Falling into Connie’s arms, Zelda held her tight, her face buried in Connie’s breasts. “OK, honey.” Connie shook her a bit, kissing her forehead. “Time to get back to work.”

Zelda whimpered, and Connie walked her back behind the counter, leaving Melanie with the cup. She looked about. “Where’s Vanna?”

She couldn’t find her. They finished the drink and sent the man on his way. A few minutes and customers later, the man returned.

“I ordered Hazelnut, and this is Caramel.” The man said.

Zelda blinked. “I’M Hazelnut.”

“Apparently not. Because this tastes like caramel.”

“Hang on a damn second.” Zelda grumbled, looking for the paper cups they handed out for free. “Where are the Dixie cups?”

“We’re out.” Called Patti from upstairs.

“I’ll use a regular cup.”

“Don’t do that. We count them.” Patti said.

“I’ll sell it to the next person who wants Hazelnut.”

“Not if you drink out of it.” Melanie said. “That’s an OSHA violation.”

“Dig one out of the trash.”

“YOU do that.”  
Zelda blew a raspberry and made a jack-off motion with her hand, somehow resisting the urge to actually do it. “Fine. I’ll get a bottle out of Lost and Found.”

There were no bottles or other vessels in Lost and Found. This is how Zelda found herself whacking off into an old flat cap that was almost certainly going to stay lost. Their Lost and Found section was filled with articles that customers had left behind and were too embarrassed to try to retrieve from this particular establishment.

Zelda came and filled the hat most of the way up without really meaning to. She dipped her finger into her white emissions and tasted it.

“Hazelnut.” She said pointedly.

“I believe you.” The customer said. “THIS...” He gestured to his drink. “tastes like Caramel.”

“That’s impossible.” Zelda shrugged. The customer pointed the straw at her. She looked back up. “Do you want me to use a different straw?”

“I already drank from it.” The man said. “If you have a cold, then I’m already catchin’ it.”

Zelda sipped it. She stepped back like the drink had punched her. “What the hell?” She said. “That DOES taste like Caramel.”

“I am Caramel today...” Melanie noted.

Zelda looked at her for a moment, and sidled towards her. “May I?”

Melanie watched Zelda’s hand slide under Melanie’s skirt like a snake head. She parted Melanie’s pussy lips with two fingers. She gasped gently, letting the fingers probe her for a moment before Zelda retrieved them, slick with nectar.

Holding the two fingers apart like a crooked peace sign, Zelda held her hand in front of Melanie’s mouth and they both licked the nectar from a finger. They looked at each other at the same moment, and Zelda nodded knowingly.

“Well, this is new.” Melanie said. “Has it always done this?”

“What?” Asked the customer.

“I guess the implant makes our... other stuff taste different, too.” Melanie said.

“You can say the bad word.” The customer said.

“I just never knew it had that effect.” Melanie said. “I’ve never made one like that. May I?” She took a sip from his cup. She swirled the coffee in her mouth, swallowed, and breathed in through her mouth.

“Under the coffee, and under the caramel... I can taste the hazelnut... and just a hint of... pussy. It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“I wouldn’t know.” The man confessed.

“Aw, that’s a shame.” Melanie said.

“Nah, it’s mostly by choice.” He said. “Mostly... but so long as I have one of these every now and again, I don’t feel bad at all. That part where I held Zelda’s hair... that’s the closest I’ll ever get to a threesome.”

“Well, enjoy it.” She waved the customer off.

Vanna emerged from the futa-only lavatory and returned to the floor.

“There you are.” Melanie said. “Where were you?”

“Just taking a pee.” Vanna said softly, looking away.

“Did it taste funny?” The customer asked.

Vanna sneered at him, having missed the context of that question.

Melanie took her hand. “I’ll explain it later.”

Melanie noticed that Vanna’s hand didn’t feel damp after washing it in the bathroom. Sure, they touch their cocks all day, but that was something Melanie happened to know that Vanna always did, wherever she was.

She let it go, and the day continued.

\---

“I’d like a cappuccino.” Asked a suited man whom none of the baristas recognized.

Melanie looked at the man a little sideways. “We don’t make cappuccinos.”

“Excuse me?” He squinted at her suspiciously. “What kind of coffee shop doesn’t make cappuccinos?”

“We don’t.” Melanie insisted. “We don’t use milk in any of our drinks. And cappuccinos need a milk foam to really be a cappuccino.”

“I know what goes into a cappuccino.” The man said testily.

“OK.” Melanie could sense this whole exchange going south. She was actually glad she got him instead of one the others. “But you do know what DOES go into our drinks, right?”

“Yes.” The man drew the word out impatiently.

“So...” She continued. “Semen is less than one percent fat. And it’s thicker. You can’t whip it into a foam or into whipped cream. Trust me. We’ve tried everything.”

“Alright, fine.” The man pouted. Evidently, his whole day was riding on this. “Then I’ll get a Raspberry.”

“Raspberry?” She blinked. “We don’t have that right now.”

The man sighed dramatically. He went to the floor and picked up the chalkboard. He pointed to the chalk words “Raspberry” drawn neatly on it.

“Put that down!” Melanie said sternly. The man dropped it and let it fall. “Sir, I’m sorry that sign was wrong, but that doesn’t give you license to pick up the furniture.”

All the baristas heads turned suddenly at the sound they could always hear, no matter how much talking, shouting, music or other noise was present in the cafe. It was the sound of Patti’s office door opening and closing.

For the first time this morning, Patti came downstairs. Like all the other baristas, she was bottomless, but for the decorative colored microskirt. Hers was green.

“I’m the manager. What can I do for you?” Patti began, diplomatically.

“OK, first you can get her out of my face. And second...”

Patti put her hand up immediately. The man stopped talking. She turned around and went back up the stairs.

Melanie sniffed. “You’re not going to get anywhere with that attitude.” She said.

A few seconds later, Patti returned down the stairs.

“I’m the manager. What can I do for you?” She repeated.

The man stared at her. “The sign says Raspberry, but she says you don’t have it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” Patti said. “That’s an oversight on our part. Melanie, we had a Raspberry implant, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but none of us are wearing it.”

“I’ll take care of it. Can you just get the implant for me, please?”

Melanie went off. Patti addressed the customer pointedly. “I heard your whole conversation. I want to make it clear that I’m going to give this latte to you for free, but only because we advertised a product we couldn’t provide in an acceptable time frame. And I’m the one who chose to wear the Mint rather than Raspberry. That’s my fault. That was my choice. But still, the sign didn’t say ‘cappuccino,’ and that didn’t stop you giving my staff a hard time then. If the sign didn’t say Raspberry, I’d send you out of here with nothing.”

“What is this?” The man looked outraged. “You’re going to give me grief, too?”

“I can either be up-front about this, or I can coddle and condescend to you the way I do to cranky forty-five-year-old women.” Patti said. “Because that’s who you’re reminding me of right now.”

The man seethed silently. Melanie came back with the last implant.

“OK.” She called out to the small line. “Does anyone want Mint?”

One woman in the back put up her hands. “I’ll try it.” She said.

“Good. At least it’s not going to waste.” Behind her back, she withdrew the implant from inside her and set it down on a few paper towels. Patti took hold of her cock and started slamming it as hard as she could, her bracelets jingling as she worked it. Within thirty seconds, she had ejaculated half a cupful of Creme de Menthe. This cup was passed to Connie to finish for when the woman in line would reach the counter.

The pipes hopefully clear, she installed the Raspberry implant in her ass. She took her softening noodle and jerked it about, but it didn’t stiffen right away. “Come on...” she grumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Melanie asked.

“I’m having trouble getting it hard...” Patti said, a little embarrassed. “I’m not as fast as you are.”

“Do you want some... assistance?” Melanie offered.

“That’s up to you.” Patti said.

Melanie got on her knees, face to face with Patti’s hanging cock. It really was nice and big, even when it was soft. She opened her mouth and accepted the soft thing into it. She sucked on it, feeling the spongy tissue swell and grow against her mouth.

Patti got hard, and quicker than normal. She wasn’t sure if it was the implant finally going to work or her lovely assistant slobbering on it eagerly. She patted Melanie on the head to signal her to stop, unable to make words sensibly while Melanie was spiraling her tongue against her cock. Melanie kept up the blowjob for much longer than was necessary, bringing Patti to the edge of climax.

“OK, please, enough.” Patti begged. “This isn’t for you.”

“Mmmm...” Melanie hummed, finally releasing her cock mere moments before Patti released herself into the cup. Patti’s breath heaved as she held herself up as she almost lost her balance. Melanie took the cup from her, allowing her to support herself on the counter.

“Could you finish this?” Patti said. “I need to take a seat.”

“We’ve got this, Patti.” Melanie gave Patti’s ass a slap as she went up the stairs. She pulled a few shots of espresso and finished the drink.

“If you’re wondering... none of us enjoy giving the customers a hard time.” Melanie set the drink down. “But we’re the only chain that does this, and the nearest other one is in... Oregon, I think. So when someone gives us guff, we really have no reason to sit here and take it. If you want our lattes, you come here.”

The man took his free drink and left. And the day moved on, as it always did. Melanie looked about, her hair whipping about her shoulders as she did.

“Where the hell is Vanna?” Melanie shouted.

“I don’t know.”

Melanie helped make one more latte before leaving the counter to find her. She found Vanna in the back room, holding a wrapped stack of napkins.

“What’s up?” Melanie asked. “We need you out there.”

“I was... just getting these.” Vanna answered uncertainly.

“That can wait.” Melanie said.

“One of them is almost empty.”

A long silence. “Vanna... is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Vanna insisted.

Melanie stepped in closer. “Are you sure?”

Rather than putting a conciliatory hand on her shoulder or giving her a hug, an awkward move that would end up with their cocks rubbing together, Melanie turned her hand upward and held Zelda’s balls in her fingers. Somehow, this became the accepted gesture of friendship among the baristas. It was a move that said, ‘I support you.’

Vanna smiled and put her hands on Melanie’s balls, completing the gesture. They looked into each other’s eyes. “I’m absolutely fine.”

“OK.” Melanie leaned forward and their foreheads touched before they released each other’s gonads. “Let’s get back out there, OK?”

They left the back room. “Can I have some gum?” Vanna asked.

“I don’t have any gum.”

“Oh.” Vanna said. “I thought you did. Your breath smells minty.”

Melanie flushed. There was something else to tell that dentist.

\---

The noontime rush passed, and the cafe grew vacant. There was a woman sat in the back of the cafe for a while now, reading a newspaper and occasionally checking her phone. For the first time since before they opened, there was only one customer in there: her.

Zelda went to check up on her. “Are you all set?” She asked.

The woman put down her paper. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with curly brown-red hair and green eyes. She wore all white, with a tank top and skirt, with some sort of gray brace on her left hand. “I’m OK. But I am getting a bit thirsty.”

“Oh, we can’t have people saying that someone left here thirsty!” Zelda took her hands and pulled her out of her comfy seats. “Come on, let’s fill that belly with something sweet!”

Zelda dragged the woman to the counter. “What’s your name?”

“Colette.” She said softly.

“Nice to meet you, Colette.” Zelda shook her hand, looking at the brace on the other hand.

“Tendinitis.” She explained sheepishly.

“That’s OK.” Zelda nodded. “So... what kind of latte would you like?”

Colette looked at her options. “I’ve never had coconut before.”

Connie stepped forward. “Do you have any special requests?”

“What do you mean?” Connie tipped her head.

“There’s nobody else around right now.” Melanie explained. “So the rest of us could do something fun for your enjoyment. Like I could be the one to jack her off into the cup, or something like that.”

“Oh. I thought you meant, like... cinnamon.” Colette looked down. “Uh... you don’t need to do anything like that for me.”

“Fine. We’ll do it for us.” Zelda dragged Connie by the elbow out from behind the counter. “Vanna, join me over here, would you?” Zelda knelt next to Connie and pulled out the tin of cocoa butter wafers. She brought Connie’s cock down until it was almost horizontal. From her palm, she set out three wafers of cocoa butter across the top of Connie’s cock like the holes on a flute. Not long after they were placed, two lines of butter dripped down around her cock, making a set of rings like a shower curtain.

Zelda rubbed the butter into Connie’s cock, working up an impressive shine. “Come on, Vanna, help me out here.” Zelda begged. “This needs two hands and one of mine is busy playing with myself.” 

Vanna did as instructed, loaning her right hand to the laborious task of whacking Connie’s schlong. She felt both hands pass up and down her cock, smoothing out the cocoa butter.

“Uh-oh...” Zelda said. “Even our two hands won’t be enough to make her come.”

“No, they d-definitely will be.”

“Who asked you, Connie?” Zelda released Connie’s cock and started stroking it with that singular erotic instrument: her tongue. She slid it from base to tip and back, kissing it a few times as she went.

Vanna joined in Zelda’s new strategy, stroking her tongue up and down the shaft, sliding her head around and gently bumping her nose against Zelda’s. They stuck their tongues out further, French kissing as much as they could with the large circumference of Connie’s cock in the way.

Connie clutched the seat of her chair and howled, releasing herself in a cup held by Melanie, the others too distracted by their reverie to do so.

“Glad I didn’t go upstairs and enter receipts.” She said, feeling the cup grow heavier with every thick blast of come.

Vanna stood, wiping her tongue with her thumb. “I think you like cocoa butter more than I do...” She told Zelda. “It’s like sweet earwax.”

“No way!” Zelda pouted. “It’s so good, especially when licking if off like mustard off Connie’s huge hot dog, right?”

“Ughhhhh...”

“See? Connie agrees.”

Melanie removed the cup from under the spout of Connie’s cock. “That looks like enough. Vanna, can you finish this?”

Vanna went back behind the counter. A stream of leftover come trickled out from her cock, and Zelda was there to catch it in her hands before it touched the ground. She slurped it up before planting her lips on the cock and allowing the remainder to fill her mouth.

Zelda stood, Connie still spread out over the back of the chair like a coat. Zelda stood over Connie’s head and gently spit the come into Connie’s mouth.

Lifting Connie’s head, they both looked at Colette languorously. She seemed unmoved by the spectacle, still smiling politely. Most of the customers they would do something like this for would at least have the decency to act stunned, or try to rub their crotches discretely. Then again, most of their customers were men.

“Nothing?” Zelda shook her head. “I blame you, Connie. You really phoned that one in.”

“Here you are.” Vanna brought back the completed beverage. “One coconut latte.”

Colette shook the drink a bit, watching the beige colors swirl a bit. “It looks pretty nice.” She brought the straw to her lips and took a sip.

All the baristas watched to see her reaction. She smacked her lips a bit and nodded. “This is good.” She said, taking another sip... followed by another and another, drinking it breathlessly as one does a milkshake.

As the line of coffee in the clear cup grew lower and lower, something else grew between Colette’s legs, stretching her dress and straining her thong until she reached the bottom. The sound of slurping up the last bits were joined with ripping as her panties finally surrendered and snapped, revealing the woman’s huge cock.

Now all the baristas were staring.

Colette rolled her head back, licking her chops. She looked down at her groin and yelped, tugging her skirt down over it to no avail. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re... a futa?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah... I’m so embarrassed. This normally doesn’t happen to me.” Colette said. “I’ve ruined my cute undies.”

“We don’t get a lot of futa customers.” Melanie said. “I always assumed if they wanted coffee with jizz in it, they could just do it themselves.”

“Well, we don’t KNOW they’re not futa.” Connie noted. “They don’t hang out of their skirts like we do.”

“I suppose I could make this at home.” Colette said. “But I don’t like the way my semen tastes, so I don’t know if I could do your job.”

“Leave that to the experts.” Zelda said. “How about you give us a sample?”

Melanie rinsed out her cup in the sink and brought it back clean. Colette shyly took her cock and started to rub it, pointing it towards the cup. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, occasionally opening them to look at the beautiful baristas surrounding her... and their big cocks.

Colette whimpered and unleashed herself into the cup, filling it only a quarter of the way up. A customer might complain about under-filling if they used this in a coffee. Then again, she had no implant to assist her, so her cock wilted back to its flaccid state once she finished.

Melanie found some plastic spoons and offered one to each barista in turn. They all took a spoonful, Zelda taking the most generous one. They all sampled Colette’s semen.

Vanna bucked her head back like she’d been punched. “What? How is that?” She said rapidly and nearly incoherently, as she did when taken entirely by surprise.

“Yeah, what the hell?” Melanie said. “That tastes like chocolate.”

“You think so?” Colette tipped her head. “I don’t think so.”

Zelda dropped her spoon, now empty, and pulled Colette out of her seat by her shoulders. She spun her in place and grabbed her butt cheeks. There was no implant to be found in her.

“Do you do this to every customer??” Colette asked, her body held tense, unaware how deeply she’d be scrutinized when she came in today.

“Let her go, Zelda.” Melanie urged. 

Zelda obeyed. “So... how’d you do that without an implant?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Colette said innocently. She opened her bag and produced a handful of individually wrapped cookies. Each cookie was heart-shaped with a lovingly shaped heart of pink frosting. They were wrapped in candy bags with a colorful twist-tie keeping them fresh.

“I was up early making these. I hope they’re still good.” She said, passing a cookie out to Melanie, and one to Zelda. “These are my favorite. They’re meant to be shared. Underneath the frosting, there’s a perforation that makes the cookie easy to snap evenly in two pieces. Right down the center of the heart.”

Melanie unwrapped the cookie and upturned the bag, the cookie falling into her palm. Vanna was closest to her, so she held the cookie out to her. “Want half?”

“Sure.” Vanna held the cookie and bent it. The cookie snapped right down the middle with very few crumbs. Connie and Zelda did the same move.

“Is the frosting anything special?” Asked Connie.

“That was made with my semen, of course.” Colette said. “I figured that’s what you do here, so I might as well try it. I added a little all-natural food coloring to make it pink.”

Taking the pointed end of the cookie into her mouth, Melanie took a bite. The cookie crumbled evenly in her mouth as she bit it, the sign of a beautifully made and fresh sugar cookie. The contrast between the sugary cookie and the chocolate frosting was strange, but it worked. Melanie found herself munching the rest of the cookie rapidly. It probably didn’t hurt that the only thing she’d eaten since breakfast was a single granola bar and it was past noon.

Zelda and Connie shared their halves of the cookie. “That is really great.” Connie said. “I don’t think we ever sold cookies, but we’d sell these?”

“What’s a scone except a cookie with its head up its ass?” Zelda reasoned, eating her half of the cookie.

“Should I go meet the manager, then?” Colette asked.

“Yeah, she’s up there.” Melanie pointed to the office, hooking her finger into the collar of her polo. “And maybe ask her to turn up the air conditioning. I’m getting hot.”

“You mean turn it down?” Zelda asked.

“No, turning it up, like from medium to high.” Melanie said. “Why would anyone say ‘turn down the air’ if they wanted it cooler?”

“Because you want the temperature to go down.”

“English is my second language, and...” Vanna pointed to Melanie. “I’m with her.”

“Thank you, Vanna.”

Colette excused herself, walking up the stairs to the office. Melanie looked around. There were still no new customers. “Uh... what should we do now? I could count, but... we should probably give Colette and Patti the office alone.”

“Yeah. Remember when we got interviewed and it was just out on the floor? That was weird.” Zelda remembered.

“I think part of that was seeing that we were fine pulling out cocks out in front of strangers.” Melanie said.

“I’ve never had a problem with that.” Zelda said. “And evidently, neither does she. So... that’s the first hurdle cleared.”

Melanie returned to the counter. No customers had entered in the interim. She felt herself wobbling a little unsteadily on her feet. She put one hand on the counter and one hand on her forehead. She felt a fever gripping her, but there was no sweat to wipe away from there. Her heart was pounding hard, and her erection was harder than ever. Where were the customers? She felt badly backed up, her balls feeling heavy and swollen with unreleased semen. That wasn’t how it worked biologically, but that was what it felt like.

Getting up from her lean, Melanie turned around in place at the same moment as Vanna. The force of their spins brought their cocks out at just the right angle for them to smack into each other. This sort of thing happened every now and again during the rushes, and it normally didn’t phase them. This time, the force wasn’t quite enough for the cocks to glance off each other. They rubbed together like two fencing foils, neither of them moving away.

Melanie shook as she felt Vanna’s gigantic cock slide against hers, feeling the skin slide and grip gently. Vanna rolled her hips, rubbing her cock up and down Melanie’s. Her heart was beating so hard, Melanie couldn’t hear herself think. They kept rubbing, rubbing the undersides together and then rubbing them side-by-side.

With great effort, Melanie opened her eyes and stared into the beautiful face of Vanna, blue eyes half-open, mouth in an O-shape from sharp puffs of breath as she tried to control herself...

“Connie, do you know where the keys are?” Zelda asked. She only noticed afterwards that Connie was in the middle of filling the spring-loaded napkin dispenser, holding it with one hand as she stared at something going on at the counter. Zelda turned around to see what Connie was watching so intently.

“Holy sssssssshit.” Zelda tried not to curse too loudly in case Patti was listening. But if Patti was watching, she’d definitely be more mad at them.

Somehow, Vanna and Melanie were spread out on the counter, nude, Melanie on top, sliding Vanna’s huge cock down her throat and doing the same for Vanna beneath her.

If Zelda was feeling at all like herself, she would have run to her iPod and put on Summer of ‘69 by Bryan Adams. She hated Bryan Adams, but a joke’s a joke.

“I can’t take it anymore.” Zelda groaned, turning towards Connie. Zelda spun Connie around without warning, her hand moved from the dispenser, the stack of napkins fluttering about like a deck of cards riffled into the air.

Zelda grabbed Connie’s legs and pushed them apart. Zelda brought her hard member between Connie’s legs, lifting her sack with the tip of her cock. She stopped at the very edge of insertion, remembering the rules.

“Connie, may I please?” Zelda asked breathlessly.

Connie’s eyes were wide with shock, her breath heavy. “Yes.” She nodded.

Zelda barely let her get the word out before she was inside Connie. Connie closed her eyes tightly, letting tiny tears run down her cheeks. “Oh my god...” She squeaked.

Zelda growled like a bear, clenching her teeth and pushing harder into Connie until they fit together perfectly.

Colette knocked on the office door.

“Come on in.” Said Patti, sounding distracted.

Colette entered. “Miss York?” She asked. 

“Please. Call me Patti.” She waved her hand. “I got enough Miss York when I was a teacher. Are you Colette?”

“Yes, I am.” She nodded. “I heard you were looking for a pastry chef, so I made up some stuff.” She opened her bag and pulled out a cookie.

“Well, the first question I ask every applicant, sort of as an ice-breaker, sort of as a way to get to know you, is... what’s your favorite way to drink coffee?” Patti said, turning her head towards the window. She heard ululations of pleasure over the music. That wasn’t so unusual, but they were seldom this intense, or so many at once. They seldom all were masturbating at the same time; someone had to run the register. Patti looked out the window, at the spectacle of all her staff banging each others.

She was aghast, but Colette’s calm hand fell on her shoulder and stopped her from yelling at them to stop. “What the hell has gotten into them?!” Patti cried, looking back to Colette.

“Nothing that wasn’t already there.” Colette promised. “Except a cookie. I made these using the same technique you use for the lattes.”

Colette produced a cookie from her bag. “Would you like to share this one with me?”

Patti and Colette took a bit of the round lobes of the heart-shaped cookie at the same time. They felt the same sensation bring their heartbeat up, the apparent temperature rise in the room, and Colette’s cock rising to an even greater size than Patti’s.

They never adjusted the air conditioning. Patti was too busy bouncing merrily on Colette’s cock as she sat on her office chair. Sweat ran down her body and her hair jumped about as she took every inch of Colette’s huge thing inside her. Colette grabbed Patti’s thighs and held her still as she pounded her pussy hard.

Patti was trying not to scream too loud. She knew everyone could hear her from the office. Then again... it had been quite a while since she’d been on this end of a cock, and the morning was filled with only four or five mint orders and no raspberry orders after the jerkass customer. She was used to being backed up on days where she had to fill in, but this felt like eons of tensions melting off her.

For a moment, Patti hoped the other wouldn’t notice her doing this. That moment passed, and she was as deeply engrossed in the moment as she would be in her own bedroom.

Vanna and Melanie continued their fellatio, but the implant’s stimulation meant it wouldn’t last long. Melanie wished that Vanna would slow down, constantly feeling herself at the very edge. She somehow kept in control, feeling Vanna’s lips and nose tickling her balls.

Melanie kept getting closer and closer to the end of Vanna’s cock, feeling the huge thing climb further and further down her throat until she finally reached the end. Melanie’s left hand pulled apart Vanna’s wet lips and entered her pussy, probing the tight slip.

Vanna’s response, besides some more emphatic and muffled cries, was to place a single finger on the flange of Melanie’s implant and press inward. Not hard, but just enough pressure to push the end of the device up against her prostate. Melanie felt her cheeks redden and her body tingle, and pulled her fingers out to do the same to Vanna.

She didn’t get the chance. Melanie came straight into Vanna’s mouth, filling it so fast, a ring of spunk sprayed out from Vanna’s lips. Vanna’s hands went to Melanie’s buttocks and pulled them back down, forcing Melanie’s cock down her throat again and filling her gullet with Melanie’s sweet emissions. Vanna followed soon after, the sweet taste of caramel sending her over the edge. Melanie felt the hot come fill her inside, bringing the cock to her mouth so she could taste it properly. Vanna kept coming, dribbling of of Melanie’s mouth and over their bodies.

Connie came third, unable to endure Zelda’s thrusting any longer, her cock spraying like a dislodged fire hydrant in a huge coconut-scented geyser, like someone had crushed a bottle of tanning lotion with a sledgehammer. Her stream slowed momentarily, and renewed again with even greater intensity when Zelda finally let herself come deep into Connie’s pussy. Zelda held Connie in place as she delivered blast after blast of come into her, spilling out from the tight recesses into a miniature lake on the floor.  
At this time, Zelda would normally make some sort of ‘nut’ pun, based on their relative flavors. Instead, she collapsed atop Connie, who slid to her side and came to rest, stretched out on the couch with Zelda still locked inside her, still dribbling come into Connie’s pussy.

Melanie spun around and kissed Vanna on the lips, wrapping their sweaty, come-slick arms together on the counter in a way that was definitely not approved by OSHA. Melanie finally opened her eyes and looked at Vanna, spread out on the counter, eyes half-open in delirious satisfaction, breath heavy and smelling deeply of caramel.

Prying her eyes from the lovely Vanna, Melanie looked up and saw a line of three customers, two men and a woman.

Melanie snapped up, jumping down from the counter. “Sorry.” She said.

“Don’t mind us.” Said the woman. “Is this place always this exciting?”

“No, not usually.” Melanie said. “Vanna, get up! We have customers!”

Vanna craned her head towards the customers, upside-down from her point of view. She slowly dragged herself off the counter and back to the floor, as if they’d told her it was time to get up for school or she’d miss the bus.

“You new to the Futa Brew?” Melanie asked the customers.

“Yeah.” The woman nodded.

“Zelda, we got a newcomer!”

Neither Zelda nor Connie woke from their post-coitus daze, not even to look up to see what the fuss was about. Come continued to trickle from between Connie’s legs, onto the couch and the hardwood flooring.

“Don’t let Patti catch you two asleep.” Melanie scolded.

With the relative quiet of the cafe, they finally heard the squeaking of her office chair and someone crying out into their hand. Unseen by them was Colette suddenly turning the chair so she Patti wouldn’t spunk all over a nearby cork board covered in important-looking notes. She instead fired directly into a waste paper basket, filling it most of the way up from a distance of several feet. Colette’s every blast of come inside her caused Patti to spray her own seed across the room.

When they were spent, Colette brought her lips to Patti’s ear. “White chocolate and raspberry... that’s my favorite kind of coffee.”

Melanie heard the chair stop creaking. That was nothing like her own job interview for this job. For that one, she just had to show her cock. Melanie sighed and focused on the customer. “What can we get you?”

“Do you girls always work butt-naked?” The female customer asked.

Vanna took the floor. “We have shoes on.”

Melanie and Vanna continued to work topless until someone else walked in from the back room. It was Karen, one of their coworkers, a barista assigned to finally relieve the others of duty and end their shifts.

When she saw Karen, Melanie gasped and covered her breasts with her hands.

Karen scoffed. “Really, Melanie?” She looked around. “It must have got really exciting in here.”

“What are you today?” Asked Melanie, not taking her hands off her breasts.

“I’m Caramel.”

“Awesome. I’m out of here.” Melanie picked up her polo from the floor and went to the back. Before she reached the entrance, she was intercepted by a customer entering the cafe. She was a woman of average height with brown hair.

“Excuse me?” The woman asked. “Do you work here?”

Melanie blinked. “Yes, I do.” She answered. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here for a job interview. I saw you had a listing for a pastry chef.”

Melanie stared at her. “Patti?”

“Yeah?” She answered sleepily.

“Is Colette still up there?”

“No, I guess she left.” She answered.

“I never saw her leave.” Melanie said. “But we have someone here for the interview.”

A moment. Patti came downstairs. She looked at the customer. “You’re here for the interview?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then...” She looked around. No sign of Colette remained, except the wrappers from her cookies.

Patti sighed. “Come on upstairs.”

They went up the stairs. Patti opened up the door, releasing a cloud of raspberry and chocolate jizz smell.

Patti closed the door. “On second thought, let’s do it on the floor.”

\---

Soon after, the rest of the baristas assigned to the afternoon shift appeared, and the four of them went back to the locker room.

“I got your polo by mistake.” Melanie said, handing Vanna her shirt.

“Merci beaucoup.” She said. Reaching behind herself, she withdrew the implant from her rear. She looked at it. “Ha! Look how much I used.” She held the implant out. It was thin and wiry, almost like a used match.

Melanie’s implant was about twice as large as Vanna’s, while Zelda and Connie’s implants had shrunk by about half. Connie blew out a sigh of relief, finally free of the implant’s influence and able to clear her head. Melanie and Vanna left the locker room after dressing, and Connie and Zelda were left alone.

“So...” Connie said. “Today was a lot of fun.”

Zelda smiled, but didn’t say anything.

“How long were you waiting to finally... do that?”

“A while.” Zelda said. “Now you just need to do me and we’ll have the whole set. Except for anal, of course, but... you know... the implants and all.”

“Do you like anal?” Connie asked.

Zelda perked up. “Is that an invitation?”

“I guess that’s a yes.” Connie said. “I don’t, really. I mean, I like the way the implant feels, but... once it’s out, I don’t think about it.”

“I think about sex all the time.” Zelda stepped into her adorable blue panties. “That’s why I love this job so much. Get a job where you jack off and you never work a day in your life.”

Connie went silent for a bit, and then said, “I can never tell when you’re serious or when you’re just playing it up for the customers.” She looked away, stepping into her jean shorts and zipping them up. “So... if what we did was just for fun, I understand. That’s fine. I just want us to be on the same page”

Zelda dropped her skirt without stepping into it and grabbed Connie tightly, squeezing her head into Connie’s shoulder. Connie brought her arms up to hold Zelda.

“When I’m at home...” Zelda confessed. “I jerk off with cocoa butter because the smell reminds me of you. When that guy asked for me to bonk one of us, I chose Melanie because I didn’t have the nerve to ask you.”

Connie pulled Zelda’s head away from her shoulder and kissed her on the lips, slowly. Zelda got on her toes to press into the kiss harder. They released, and Zelda brought her head against Connie’s chest, feeling her heart pound as they stood silently.

“My dad’s going to kill me if he finds out I’m dating a black girl.”

Connie laughed.

Zelda put her skirt on. Connie spoke up again, “Why not Vanna?”

“Hmm?”

“You could have did Vanna instead of Melanie.”

“I would never do that to Melanie.”

Connie blinked. “Excuse me?”

Zelda looked at Connie like she had sprouted antlers. “Oh, come on, Connie. Really?” Zelda chuckled. “I guess it’s OK. You still got this...” She rubbed the half-chub that Connie had stowed in her jean shorts, feeling the gentle heat through the denim. “And I’ve got this.” Zelda revealed an implant of a faint green color. It looked like it had barely been used.

“Are you allowed to take that home?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

\---

Outside, Vanna caught up to Melanie just outside the back entrance. “Mel...” Vanna said. “Do you... want a ride?”

Melanie looked up. The sky was blue, the ever-present cloud cover of Seattle relenting for now. “It’s not raining.”

“I know...” Vanna looked off, holding her trench coat closed. “But... maybe... you want to get lunch?”

“Are you OK?” Melanie asked. They stepped closer, their hands interweaving. Melanie’s hand instinctively went towards Vanna’s scrotum, but she stopped at her coat. Instead, she pulled in and held Vanna in a long hug.

Vanna pecked Melanie on the cheek and whispered to her, “Je veux te baiser de toutes les manières.”

Melanie smiled. She had no idea what that meant. She looked away and back. In that short time, Vanna had opened her trench coat, under which she wore nothing. Her cock hung between her legs, ten inches of soft meat that threatened to grow even longer with the lightest touch from Melanie.

“Vanna!” Melanie cried. Vanna took Melanie’s head and brought it to her lips. They kissed a few more times, and Melanie finally relented.

“All right...” She said. “Let’s get some lunch.”

\---

Atop a nearby roof, Colette nodded to herself at a job well done. The question Patti had asked her stayed in her mind. “What’s gotten into them?” And her answer: “Nothing that wasn’t there before.” Except for Patti, where the answer was ‘my cock, repeatedly.’

Colette was not a conjurer of romantic feelings; she simply adjusted the volume to the perfect level. No second shot was necessary this time, watching Vanna and Melanie enter the same car. The arrow in her bow vanished from her hand, her bow disappearing soon after. Her wings materialized behind her, and she took to the sky looking for the next worthy target, her cock flapping under her white skirt the whole way.


End file.
